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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27874373">Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl0wst0ne/pseuds/gl0wst0ne'>gl0wst0ne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Real Person Fiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disney World, Drista makes an appearance, Everyone being frustrated, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, George says no, Going to the Beach, Goofy - Freeform, I said some angst but let's be real-there's lots, I told you, Kissing, Minecraft, More characters that I will include when they arrive!, Movie Watching, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Sapnap is the brother we wish we had, Some Cursing, Some angst, Streaming, Tension, Tommyinnit mentioned - Freeform, We don't know him, Who's George?, and i stand by that, completely self indulgent, flying on a plane, minecraft youtubers - Freeform, nearly kissing, rocks, so much tension, this is extremely self-indulgent, we love rocks here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:27:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>67,008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27874373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl0wst0ne/pseuds/gl0wst0ne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once the door closed, you stumbled back as you were suddenly pressed firmly into it, feet almost failing to work. Clay was clutching your waist, holding you there. Your eyes were wide and you had grabbed onto his shirt as you fumbled to stay upright. His face was just inches away from yours. <em>Hello, there.<em><br/>“You’re making it really hard to stay away from you, y’know?” He said, green eyes boring into yours.<br/>~*~<br/>It's finally time for George to come to America and meet Dream. He takes his sister, but finds that they just can't keep their hands off of each other. George is happy for Dream, but he's not happy that it's his little sister.<br/>Lot's of tension! Woohoo!</em></em></p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/><em>Reader Insert! Completed!</em><br/></em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1170</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Clay like the pottery kind?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first fic that I've posted since my 2013 days on fanfiction.net, so I hope it's decent!<br/>This fic is also cross-listed on Wattpad under the same title and my username. Please leave comments!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stared at your computer. It stared back.</p><p>You cursed at it. It didn’t respond.</p><p>It’s a fucking laptop, of course it didn’t respond, idiot.</p><p>You hated getting your brother to help you with technology. He was always a prick about it. He was a streamer; he had to know how computers work. You? Yeah, definitely not a streamer.</p><p>You knew about his community. Not everything, of course. The Minecraft community got a bit out of hand at a lot of places, so you tried to keep your distance so that you didn’t see anything that you didn’t want to see. The fanfiction that you’ve heard about from George...ridiculous. Hearing about your brother or his friends in <em> situations </em>...yeah, no thanks. You’ll stick to knowing the bare minimum for now.</p><p>Your laptop had a virus. Or two. Maybe three. At most, six. Despite George knowing everything about coding and computers, you never tried to learn anything yourself. You refused to, in fact. Unfortunately, your stubbornness also meant that you also refused to ask for help, especially from your brother. Along with the viruses on your laptop, the internet had stopped working and it also wasn’t charging properly. There were a few problems, to say the least.</p><p>You groaned when you realized that you did in fact need help.</p><p>Before exiting your cave of a bedroom, you slid a sweatshirt over your head and shuffled to George’s room. The sweatshirt was black, with a shiny gold smile on it. It was one of his gamer friend’s merch, that he had an extra of. You accepted it, thanking him for his generous addition to your ever-growing surplus of hoodies that you’ve been accumulating for a couple of years. You didn’t watch him, George’s friend who gave him the merch, but you knew that they were really close friends. George had at least one of each of his merch hoodies.</p><p>You knocked on the door softly. He wasn’t streaming; he usually let you know when he would be. That, or you could tell by the screaming. George was always screaming. You wished that the house had noise-proof walls, but unfortunately it didn’t. Ever since he came back from university, he had kept you up night after night because of the shouting. But, you couldn’t complain. He did make more money than anyone in the house, combined.</p><p>You heard him speak for a moment before he cracked the door open slightly. “Hello,” He said.</p><p>“Are you busy?”</p><p>“No, not really. I’m just on a call with Dream.” <em> Ah, Dream. That’s his name. </em></p><p>You held your laptop out in front of you, your head dipped down in shame. “My laptop’s a piece of shit. I need help.”</p><p>George cracked a smile, taking it from your hands. “Is it a piece of shit or are you just incompetent?”</p><p>You huffed, pushing his door open and sitting on his bed, crossing your legs under you. “Is both an answer?”</p><p>“No, actually.”</p><p>“Well, then it’s not the latter.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, sitting down at his desk with it. He picked up his headset and unmuted himself. “Hey, Dream, I’ve got to help my sister with something really quick. I’ll be back in a second.”</p><p>You couldn’t hear Dream’s response. George muted himself again, and got to work on the laptop.</p><p>“So, what’s wrong with it then?” George asked, pulling up the settings.</p><p>“I think I’ve got a virus.”</p><p>“Do you?” He laughed. “It looks like you’ve got a few. Anything else?”</p><p>You pulled your phone out of your pocket and began to check the notifications you’d been ignoring for the past few hours. “It’s not charging to full, and my internet is out.”</p><p>“Well, the internet is probably my fault. Shitty bandwidth, and all.” He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, checking the power situation. He turned his head around, scolding you. “The battery probably isn’t charging because you aren’t turning it off when you sleep and you keep it on the charger too much.”</p><p>That was probably true. You always forgot to press the power button every night, just closing it when you were done. And you never took it off the charger unless you were taking it somewhere. He got it spot on.</p><p>“As for the viruses,” He continued, “I can run some stuff to remove them, but please stop illegally downloading films.”</p><p>“I never said I was downloading films-”</p><p>“But you are,” He shook his head, laughing. “You’ve been doing it since you were 14. I told you to stop then, but you still haven’t”</p><p>Damn, you really couldn’t fool him. You sighed. “Okay, yeah. You caught me. I was trying to watch <em> Truly, Madly, Deeply </em> again. It’s not on Netflix.”</p><p>He snorted. “What is with you and weird 90’s movies?”</p><p>“Two words,” You held up your fingers. “<em> Alan. Rickman. </em>”</p><p>“Weirdo.” He turned back to your laptop. “Alright, so this is going to take a bit to run the antivirus. You can stay if you’d like, but I’m hopping back on Discord with Dream.”</p><p>“Don’t mind me,” You said, stretching out your legs from under you to lay down properly. “I don’t have anything better to do.”</p><p>You got busy playing Tetris on your phone. You don’t know what it was about the game; you saw <em> one </em> video on YouTube of some world championship match, and suddenly you were obsessed with it. Not necessarily good, but definitely obsessed.</p><p>George had unmuted himself at some point and began talking to his friend again. “Hey, I’m fixing my little sister’s laptop really quick.” Pause. “Just some viruses and internet issues.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes, continuing your game. George laughed and your eyes shot up to his chair, exiting the game briefly to focus on what he was about to say, knowing that it would be something about you.</p><p>“Yeah, she’s not into tech, really.” His eyes were focused on the laptop. “She’s actually hanging out in my room right now.” Another pause. “No, I’m not putting her on the call.”</p><p>You held in a laugh, lifting an eyebrow in apprehension. You’d never talked to any of his streamer friends before.</p><p>“No, Dream, she definitely doesn’t want to talk to you.”</p><p>“Actually-” You started, but George interrupted you.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” He shook his finger at you, laughing. “Yes, Dream. That was her.”</p><p>“I want to talk to Dream,” You smiled, biting your tongue. You dropped your phone on the bed and sat up.</p><p>He turned to face you, pulling one side of his headset away from his ear. “I-really?” George moved your laptop out of the way as the antivirus worked its magic and unplugged his headset. He also pulled out an extra chair from under his desk, patting it twice. You rolled off his bed and sat down next to your brother.</p><p>George shrugged, raising his eyebrows and motioned to his computer, waiting for you to say something.</p><p><em> What do you say? Umm… </em>“Hello,” You said hesitantly.</p><p><em> “Oh shit-I didn’t think you’d actually-hey, what’s up?” </em> Dream’s cool voice came out. He was American. You knew that from the single stream you attempted to watch, but you’d left quickly after one of the girls in the chat wrote something suggestive about your brother.</p><p>“Dream, right?” You asked, holding in a laugh. It was such an awkward moment that no one was prepared for.</p><p><em> “You can call me Clay, if you want.” </em>His words made your voice catch in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to say that.</p><p>“Clay like the pottery kind?” You asked, peeking at your brother from the corner of your eye. You hit yourself mentally. <em> The pottery kind? What kind of idiot- </em>George was trying not to laugh as well.</p><p>A filtered laugh came through, making you blush. <em> “Yeah, like the pottery kind, I guess,” </em> He chuckled.</p><p>"She's wearing your merch right now!" George shouted.</p><p>
  <em>"My merch? Why?"</em>
</p><p>"I bought your 6 mil merch, and then you sent me one."</p><p>"And it fit, somehow." You laughed. "Even though George is an extra small. Also this is a complete coincidence. I didn't know I'd be meeting you."</p><p><em>"Is it comfortable?"</em> Dream asked.</p><p>"It's actually my favorite hoodie," You said, avoiding eye contact with George. You had one of his hoodies as well, but you favored his friend's. George scoffed. Trying to change the subject quickly, you punched your brother lightly on the shoulder. "So, what were you guys talking about before I came in?”</p><p>“Dream was-”</p><p>
  <em> “I was trying to convince George to fiiiiinally come visit me.” </em>
</p><p>“George!” You scolded, gaping at him. “How long have you known him?”</p><p>“Six years…” He muttered.</p><p>“And you haven’t met up with him yet?”</p><p>“No, but we-”</p><p>“Six years. Six. That’s way too long.”</p><p>Dream interjected. <em> “See, George? She agrees with me.” </em></p><p>“Y/N, I can’t just fly to America by myself-” You and Dream interrupted him again.</p><p><em> “Have your sister come with. Have your whole family come,” </em>Dream insisted.</p><p>“Come on, George. Isn’t he your best friend?” You said, holding your hands up in a questioning gesture.</p><p>“He is.”</p><p>“So, go see him. Idiot.” Your eyes rolled. George never stopped talking about his American friend. You knew more about him than you wished to, especially considering that you’d never spoken to him. “Also, I’m not coming with. But thank you for the offer.”</p><p>“Why not?” George asked.</p><p>“I don’t want to interrupt any...I don’t know, weird ‘DreamNotFound’ bromance moments…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cost? Zero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “She knows what DreamNotFound is?!” </em> Dream shouted through Discord while laughing.</p><p>“I didn’t even know that she knew what that is,” George admitted, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head, laughing with Dream.</p><p>
  <em> “I promise, you wouldn’t be interrupting any bromance moments.” </em>
</p><p>You shook your head. “I don’t think so, guys. This is your trip, George.”</p><p>Your brother shrugged. “If I go, I’m bringing everyone. I can’t just leave you all here. It could be like a big vacation!”</p><p>A big vacation, with the whole family to the States? You didn’t know about that. There was nothing for you in America. You were doing school, and working on finals, and way too busy to drop everything to travel across the country. Especially because you’d probably be spending most of your time sitting on your computer in a hotel room while George was out frolicking with Dream.</p><p><em> “Not to interrupt, but I did tweet that I would be streaming at noon.” </em> Dream’s voice cut through. <em> “And that’s in about two minutes and I haven’t even started OBS yet.” </em></p><p>“Go stream!” George shouted. “I’ll be muted. Send me a message when you want me to join you.”</p><p>Dream said goodbye and George muted himself. He pulled up Twitch and began watching Dream’s stream.</p><p>“Here’s your laptop,” George said, handing it to you. “It should be done in about ten minutes. Please don’t get more viruses.”</p><p>Sarcastically, you responded, “I’ll try not to.”</p><p>You stood up and headed back to your cave with your laptop and phone. A pink dust still covered your face. You weren’t embarrassed, just a bit overwhelmed. Dream was just one of George’s friends, just one of the boys. There was no reason to feel like this.</p><p>A notification buzzed on your phone. You hopped on your bed, getting swaddled in your duvet before opening it. It was just a Twitter notification from George, announcing that he’d be joining Dream on stream soon.</p><p>The last time you joined one of their streams, you regretted it. Maybe this time would be different.</p><p>You opened your laptop to Twitch and searched for Dream. He already had 70,000 viewers, and it was rising by the second.</p><p>He was finished with his introduction by the time you joined, explaining that it was another day of speedrunning (rip Dream’s speedrun streams). He also said that George would be hanging out on call for a bit. The chat got excited and you rolled your eyes, watching them freak out.</p><p><em> “Alright, let’s get started.” </em> He ran through a forest, but quickly restarted on a new seed, not even ten seconds after starting. <em> “And we’re already restarting. Good start to the stream.” </em></p><p>You let the stream play as you did your homework. It was an essay for your finance class. You didn’t enjoy finance, but it was required to get your degree. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when Dream spoke again.</p><p><em> “Guys, you’ll never believe what I did.” </em> Dream paused for dramatic effect, drumming his hands on his desk. <em> “I met GeorgeNotFound’s sister.” </em></p><p>Your face flushed bright red and your hands lifted off the keyboard as soon as he said the word ‘sister.’ You slapped your hand over your mouth, stifling a nervous chuckle, switching the tab to the stream and watching the chat erupt. Mostly, ‘simp,’ but a few genuine questions or inquiries.</p><p>
  <em> “By met, I mean I spoke to her. On Discord. While George was fixing her computer.” </em>
</p><p>This was when George joined the call again. “Dream,” He said. You could hear that he was trying not to laugh. “You’re not talking about my sister, are you?”</p><p>
  <em> “Nope. No, I was not. I was talking about the RNG that I’m getting this game,” </em>
</p><p>“Liar,”</p><p>Dream chuckled. <em> “Yeah, I was talking about your sister.” </em></p><p>“Please don’t tell me you’re simping.” George sighed into his microphone.</p><p><em> “Me? Simp? George, you know that you’re the only person I’d ever simp for,” </em>Dream teased.</p><p>“Okay good. She’s a minor, anyways.” Your brother deadpanned.</p><p>Dream’s character stopped moving for a moment.</p><p><em> “She is?” </em>He responded nervously. You snorted.</p><p>George weezed at Dream’s reaction. “No, I’m kidding, she’s twenty. She’s in university.”</p><p>They continued chatting, thankfully not about you anymore. The chat, however, did not drop the topic of Dream simping over you.</p><p>You could hear faint chuckles as he read some of the messages. You were rolling your own eyes at them. The fans were...something else.</p><p>
  <em> “No chat, I do not have a crush on SisterNotFound.” </em>
</p><p>George chuckled in response. “If I hear anything else about my sister, there is no way that she’s coming to America with me.”</p><p><em> “Okay, okay. Chat, knock it off.” </em> Dream sighed. <em> “Well, now they know you’re planning on coming here. Good job, George.” </em></p><p>As the boys went into details about the possible upcoming trip, you decided to close the stream. It was distracting you, and this paper was too important not to focus on. It was your final. Sixteen pages, due at midnight, and you were only halfway done. You blasted some music and typed until your fingers wouldn’t move. It was 11:30 when you typed the conclusion.</p><p>Thoughts of Dream and the conversation with him earlier plagued your thoughts. You had to continuously remind yourself that you were in the middle of something important. Eventually, thoughts of the green man faded.</p><p>You turned the assignment in and closed the laptop with a huff. It was done, finally.</p><p>However, it was only the first final of the semester.</p><p>Deciding to save the rest of them for another day, you were officially done for the night. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and took a shower, making sure to spend an extra long time soaking. You deserved it. That paper was fucking hard.</p><p>You scrubbed thoroughly through your hair, feeling your stress roll down the drain with the hot water. Grabbing the soft towel outside of the shower, you dried yourself off and soon, you were back in bed.</p><p>You laid there for a while, thinking about Dream. You knew that it was silly to be stuck on him for so long, but something about him that kept bringing your mind back to him.</p><p>It wasn’t his fame. You were a bit flustered by him, but you’d known about him since before he even started YouTube. It wasn’t his Minecraft playing. You were impressed by it, as a casual player yourself, but it wasn’t the thing that made the goosebumps under your skin rise when you heard him speak. Was it just his voice? He had a lovely voice. Maybe his accent had a bit to do with that. <em> American boys… </em></p><p>You woke up the next day bundled in a swath of blankets. Your hair was sticking up in multiple directions, but you grabbed a scrunchie from the side table and threw your hair up. Your eyes were immediately drawn to your phone, which was lit up with several messages, and was buzzing with more. Most of them were from George. Your brows knit together.</p><p>He was repeatedly texting you to not look at Twitter...<em> what? </em></p><p>Pulling up Twitter immediately, you groaned when you refreshed your feed. It looked like yesterday’s stream had blown up over night. #SisterNotFound was trending at number 3. You rolled your eyes. There were a few tweets from Dream, and a few in response from George.</p><p>You also had a text from an unknown number. It was a U.S. number. Strange. </p><p>
  <em> Unknown number: </em>
</p><p>   Hi :)</p><p>
  <em> Y/N: </em>
</p><p>   who is this?</p><p>
  <em> Unknown number: </em>
</p><p>   It’s Clay! George gave me your number</p><p>
  <em> Y/N: </em>
</p><p>   umm sorry i don’t know Clay. i only know Dream.</p><p>You laughed at your own joke. It wasn’t that funny, but if you couldn’t make yourself laugh, who could?</p><p>
  <em> Dweam: </em>
</p><p>   Ah yes this is Dream</p><p>
  <em> Y/N: </em>
</p><p>   are you really making me pay for international texting right now? rude :/</p><p>You put your phone down, grabbing your water bottle from the desk. Once you picked your phone back up, you choked on it, coughing for a moment.</p><p>
  <em> Dweam: </em>
</p><p>   Wouldn’t be international if you came to America</p><p>
  <em> How am I supposed to respond to that? What the fuck am I supposed to say? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Y/N: </em>
</p><p>   a tempting offer, truly</p><p>   however, i’m not sure that the benefits outweigh the costs</p><p>
  <em> Dweam: </em>
</p><p>   It’s free lmao I’m paying for everything</p><p>   Cost? Zero.</p><p>Damn, he really got you there.</p><p>Y/N:</p><p>   again, tempting, but i don’t know</p><p>“Y/N?” The door was pushed open by George. He peeked his head in, raising an eyebrow at you.</p><p>“Hello?” You responded.</p><p>“Why did Dream ask for your number?”</p><p>“How the hell am I supposed to know?” You threw off the blankets and sat up, waving your phone around. “Why did you give him my number in the first place?”<br/>
“I-I don’t know, he asked for it. I gave it to him,”</p><p>“You are such a simp,” You sighed.</p><p>“I’m not actually,” He laughed.</p><p>You stood up, making your way to him. You put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him lightly out of the room, closing the door as you said, “Dream simp. Leave my presence, fool.”</p><p>“No, Y/N,” George said, pushing the door back open. “Could you go talk to mum with me?”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“The trip, of course,” He said as though it was obvious.</p><p>“George, I can’t go to America with you.” You said, crossing your arms. You’d said it at least ten times by now. You couldn’t go.</p><p>George groaned. “I know you don’t think you’ll have a good time, but I just talked to mum and dad a little bit ago, and they agreed that I shouldn’t go alone. They also said that they didn’t want to travel, so you’re my only option.”</p><p>“Don’t you have other friends?” You argued. “Streamer friends that you could go with?”</p><p>“I’d rather take you. Neither of us have been! Come on, Y/N, please?” He begged.</p><p>You breathed out a sigh and brought a hand up to your face, holding your chin. You’d never been on a trip like this before. You’d never traveled at all, really. Maybe it was time to finally get out of the house. Spend some time with your brother. Meet some new people. “Fine."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. dream face reveal irl?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was the day before you were supposed to leave for America. It had been two weeks since the trip had been planned, and you hadn’t thought about it once. Well, maybe that was a bit of a lie. It was hard to forget about, actually, since Dream kept texting you every other day. You responded to Dream’s texts as they came in. When you told George about it, he just laughed. Over the last few weeks, you had tried to learn a bit about the streamers that George hung out with, but ended up in several rabbit holes. There was a lot of lore that you were missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hadn’t packed yet, waiting until the last minute of course. You lugged your laundry basket back to your bedroom, throwing the contents onto your bed. Putting your hands on your hips, you realized that it was time to get it done. After borrowing a suitcase from your mother, you filled it with as much as you could. George had scheduled three weeks in America. Three whole weeks, only with your brother and his best friend, in a terrifying country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as that aspect alone terrified you, you were kind of excited. It was an adventure, at least. An experience?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the contents in your suitcase included shorts, tank tops, and t-shirts. Apparently, Florida was a very warm place, and it was still early fall there, definitely not similar to the cold and rainy UK, most months out of the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flight was leaving tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., lasting almost 14 hours, landing in Florida at about 6:45 p.m., after the time difference. Dream would pick you and George up from the airport and take you to his big, fancy house. How could a twenty one year old own his own house and have it paid off already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George told you that you’d be staying in a hotel. A big, fancy, expensive one that would make this trip worth it. You were excited, up until the point he informed you that you’d actually be staying at Dream’s house, in one of his several guest rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You double checked your packing list, and then triple checked it. You were pretty sure that you had everything you’d need. You ate dinner with your parents and your brother, smiling into your spaghetti as George went on and on about how excited he was to finally meet Dream. You rolled your eyes, anticipating the next few weeks to be full of doing the same thing, over and over. Just rolling your eyes at George and Dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited, Y/N?” Your dad asked, spinning his spaghetti on his fork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged. “I’m looking forward to it, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mom raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I am excited.” You said, running a hand through your hair. “I’m 20; it’s about time I go on some sort of life-altering exploration to find myself. You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were in bed before 8 that night. George asked that you’d be ready to head out by 7 a.m. the next morning, and you knew that you needed a lot of sleep. Not that you couldn’t sleep on the plane, but you planned on finishing another paper and also catching up on your favorite show. You downloaded the episodes and all of the documents that you’d need in preparation for tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As your parents drove you and George to the airport the next morning, you wrung your hands together nervously. This would also be your first flight. Your AirPods were charged and you had a blanket in hand, but music and soft things weren’t going to provide enough comfort for you against the hours long flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had grabbed a hoodie off of your pile of sweatshirts before you left. It was a cold morning to the airport, but you knew that it would be hot in America. The one you happened to pick up was the Dream hoodie you’d worn a few weeks ago. Truth be told, you’d worn it nearly everyday since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were walking ahead of George, in quite a rush. The traffic had been quite bad and the goodbye from your parents took a lot longer than expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you got to security, a younger girl stopped you by grabbing your sweatshirt lightly. As you turned to look at her, you asked what she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you friends with GeorgeNotFound?” She said, pointing to your sweatshirt, winking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I-oooh, yes, actually.” You realized what she was talking about only moments later. You turned around, and saw George standing behind you, staring at the floor. The girl hadn’t even seen him yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s your favorite-oh my God, GeorgeNotFound-holy shit!” She looked no older than fifteen, and her proclamation made you laugh out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a picture of them on her phone for her and headed through security and to the gate. You had about an hour before boarding, and George got recognized two more times as you waited. You just raised your eyebrows, keeping your distance from him and his fans. You would never, ever get used to him being semi-famous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream texted you, wishing you good luck on your flight</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   thanks but i mean i can’t really do anything if we crash :/</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Holy shit don’t say that y/n</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Your flight is going to go great</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   i hope so</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   it’s my first time flying</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Really?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   not a big traveler</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   I feel special</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tsked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream’s kind of weird,” You mused, glancing at George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still texting him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>still texting </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re chatting with him.” He smiled. “It’ll make the next few weeks go by a bit easier for all of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and George were on the plane soon, riding in first class. Dream, who of course paid for everything, insisted that you’d both be flying comfortably. You were thankful for that. The plane took off, and you found yourself very comfortable, flying. There was no turbulence, and the pilot let the plane know that there were mostly clear skies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You started on your next project and began listening to music. Halfway through the paper, you looked over and noticed George deep in concentration, editing his next video. He had headphones on with his hood up. He had dressed comfortably in dark clothing, nearly matching you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had paid for in-flight-internet and texting, and once you hit a high enough altitude, you got a notification from Dream. You smiled at his text.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Excited for you guys to get here :)</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   is that so?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Your rooms are set up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   You guys are the first ones to use the guest rooms</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   no one else?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   I don’t exactly have a lot of friends to invite over :/</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   aww, poor pissbaby :(</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   You too?! I thought you didn’t watch my streams</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   not my fault. i googled ‘dream’ and pissbaby was the first thing to come up</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Noooooo I wanted you to think I was cool</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled, shaking your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   impossible. you play minecraft</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>you’re not allowed to be cool</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Brb now I’m crying :(</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   What can I do to be cool?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>first of all, you’re a minecraft youtuber…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   you’ve already dug yourself into a hole here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   secondly, you’re american.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Oh no you sound like TommyInnit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrowed your brow and tapped George on the shoulder. He pulled one headphone away from his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Tommy-innit?” You asked, a questioning look on your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. “I don’t even want to know why you’re asking who Tommy is,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream said that I sound like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed in response. “You’re annoying, but you’re not TommyInnit-level annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the flight was reasonably uneventful for the most part. You kept texting Dream, and he kept texting you. It didn’t go much further than where it was at. He might’ve known that you’d been a nervous traveler, which is why he was trying to comfort you. Distract you, maybe. You knew that he was trying to make you feel better. And, it was working. You spent the whole flight smiling, and when you caught yourself, you realized that you couldn’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   we’re friends now yeah?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a few minutes before he responded and your nerves were starting to get to you. Why did you say that? You’re known him for a few weeks. Don’t be weird. Then he responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Best friends :)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you knew it, you only had an hour left of your flight. All of your homework was done, and you even turned off the show in order to text Dream back faster. George picked up on it too, but didn’t say anything. He just gave you a side-eye and shook his head in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plane landed and you grabbed onto the arm rests, holding your breath and closing your eyes. You let out a deep breath when the plane was rolling smoothly on the asphalt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were at the Orlando airport at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood up, stretching when the plane was halted. George closed his laptop and tucked it into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once you were in the main terminal, heading out of security, you let George lead the way. You went through the last set of doors and George stopped, looking around. There weren't a lot of people in the airport. There was a couple and their baby, reuniting with two others who looked like grandparents, and a group of teenagers who had just gotten off of another plane and were excitedly jumping up and down while one called a taxi. A woman in her mid-thirties was traveling by herself, and was staring down at her phone as she walked across the terminal. A boy not much older than you was standing against a pillar, staring at his phone. Just out of curiosity, you texted Dream, sending a picture of the guy standing there. You crossed your fingers, hoping that it was him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   dream face reveal irl?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy snapped his head up as soon as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>read</span>
  </em>
  <span> receipt popped up. His eyes locked onto George’s and he shouted,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream?!” George shouted back, running toward him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked slowly, giving them their moment together. They each met each other half-way in a giant hug.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Just, no pickles, please.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really did just post the last chapter 4 hours ago...all I have to say, is, it is what it is. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You smiled at them. Years of friendship, and they were finally meeting in person.</p><p>When you finally caught up to them, you smiled at Dream. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you and George. Both you and George were pretty short.</p><p>Once they split, Dream smiled down at you and pulled you into a hug as well. You were shocked that he hugged you. You barely knew him, in all honesty, but it was nice. And he gave extremely good hugs.</p><p>Dream-or, you guessed that you should be calling him Clay, now that you’ve met him-was just as you’d imagined. Dirty blond hair that curled just a little bit at the ends, and green eyes that shined in the airport lighting. He was...devastatingly attractive.</p><p>He pulled away and you blushed, staring at the ground. Clay turned to George and waved a hand toward the exit.</p><p>“My car’s out front. Let’s head out. Nice hoodie, by the way. Very discrete.”</p><p>You and George followed him out of the airport after grabbing your checked luggage. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, singing a song that you didn’t know. George was perched in the front seat, gazing up at the amazing buildings along the Orlando streets. You were sat in the back seat, hugging your blanket in your arms, listening to the boys chat and catch up. George spoke about the boring plane ride and the video that he spent 10 hours editing, and Clay spoke about his day.</p><p>Clay pulled up to a house, about half an hour from the airport. It wasn’t anything crazy big, but you could tell that it was expensive. The neighborhood had similar houses that looked equally as expensive.</p><p>“My neighbors,” Clay started as he pulled into the driveway and parked. “They came over to meet me when I moved in. I think I surprised them when I told them that it was my house. They kept asking if my parents were home.”</p><p>You and George laughed.</p><p>“Understandable. What twenty one year old has a home this nice in a neighborhood like this?” George said, unbuckling and getting out of the car.</p><p>You followed the boys, and as you were grabbing your suitcase, Clay beat you to it, grabbing it before you could and leading you inside. You shook your head, rolling your eyes.</p><p>“Such a gentleman, Clay.”</p><p>He bit his tongue and turned around, sending a quick wink at you before turning back around and unlocking the door.</p><p>You stared at your feet, face completely flushed. What was wrong with you? He just winked at you. Winked. No reason to get all hot and heavy over a single wink.</p><p>You and George followed Clay into the house, first through the living room, which was large and very bright, with high ceilings and white furniture. He showed you the kitchen, and then the hallway, which had three opened doors.</p><p>“Alright, so you’ve got three rooms to choose from. Have at it, I don’t mind where you stay. Take a look in all of them if you want.”</p><p>You shrugged and took a peek into the first one on the left. It had one tall window with nearly opaque white curtains. There was some art, but it wasn’t decorated much at all. In front of the window was a large queen sized bed with white sheets. There was a mirror on one wall, aligned with a drawer, and a closet on the other wall. It was a cute guest room, but quite obviously not lived in.</p><p>The room across the hall was nearly identical, just flipped, and the one at the end of the hall was similar as well. You took the first one you looked in, to the left, and George took the one across the hall.</p><p>Clay gave you both a few minutes to get situated, leaving you in your room, alone.</p><p>You weren’t sure if you should unpack. It was only three weeks. Only three weeks, and you’d be back home. You thought for a moment and decided to take everything out of your suitcase and organize it into the drawers provided. You put your toiletries on top of the drawers, coming to the decision that you’d deal with those later.</p><p>As soon as you’d stepped out into the warm Florida night, outside of the airport, you could feel the humidity instantly. You’d never felt heat like that, and the whole drive you were aching to change your clothes. Clay’s house was air conditioned, but it was still a lot hotter than you were used to. You stripped and put on a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, and then laid on the bed, on top of the covers, checking your phone.</p><p>Not even a minute later, there was a light knock on the door. Clay opened it, peeking his head inside, giving you a light smile. You sat up.</p><p>“Hi, I was going to order some dinner. What do you want?” Clay asked.</p><p>“Order?” Your eyebrow quirked.</p><p>“UberEats, DoorDash, pizza, we can get anything.”</p><p>“Uhh, Nandos, maybe?” You suggested. Nandos was always a good choice, regardless of the situation.</p><p>He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “We don’t have that one here,”</p><p>“You don’t have Nandos?”</p><p>He shook his head again. “Chick-Fil-A?”</p><p>You just shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” You chuckled. “Order for me, I’ll eat anything. Just, no pickles please.”</p><p>Clay nodded. “Sounds good. It’ll probably be here in about half an hour. George says he wants to watch a movie tonight too, so you can join us if you want…”</p><p>“I’d love to.” You said. Clay closed the door.</p><p>You’d been following along on Twitter as George posted his every move, letting everyone know that he’d be meeting up with Dream, and even posting a picture of their shoes in the airport. No face reveal, of course, but he did try to document as much as he could.</p><p>You laughed at the posts. Dream Team Twitter was freaking out. It was nearly breaking the app. Sapnap, their friend from another state, was also going crazy. He was complaining about how he wasn’t there to meet up with Dream and George. Something that you knew, that the fans didn’t know, was that Sapnap would be joining you all for a couple days sometime during the next week, according to what George had told you of the very rough and loosely planned out itinerary for your trip.</p><p>It was Thursday evening, and Sapnap would be flying in on Tuesday. He would be staying until Saturday, when he would fly back to Texas.</p><p>While you waited for the food, you did a bit of homework. You could’ve gone out and sat in the living room to do it, but you didn’t want to bother the boys. You turned the lights off and sat in bed, listening to music and doing equations. So much homework, and for what? You didn’t feel like you were learning anything, just doing it to get it done.</p><p>When the assignment was finished, you decided to leave the comfort of the dark room. It was like the room at your house; you never wanted to leave the fortress that was your comfort zone. You rarely did. At home, you were always tucked away in the corner. You didn’t go to the living room to do your homework, you didn’t really leave unless you needed to leave the house or get food. Even your bathroom was connected to your room.</p><p>But for some reason, you really wanted to get out and go sit with your brother and his friend. You didn’t know why. So, you threw on a pair of fluffy socks that were in your bag-you noticed that all of the floors in the house besides the bedrooms were cold wood-and trekked out into the living room. However, you didn’t find them sitting on the couch, like you thought you would. They weren’t in George’s room, either.</p><p>You walked up a big staircase by the front door, searching for them. When you got up the stairs, there were two different directions. You paused, listening for a moment. To the right, you heard a noise.</p><p>The door at the end of the hall was open, slightly, just cracked a bit. You approached it hesitantly and pushed lightly against it. It was Clay’s room. Sitting at his desk, was him and George. It looked like they were going over his gaming setup, or something. You heard words that you couldn’t exactly understand. You knew it was about computers, though.</p><p>You cleared your throat, announcing your presence. They both turned around in sync and you giggled at them. You wished you had a best friend that was as close to you as Clay was to George.</p><p>“I got bored,” You whispered, walking in. You took a seat on Clay’s bed. It was messy and unmade, but it was nice. His room wasn’t like what you’d expected. You kind of thought that it would be more gamer-y, with LED lights and gamer art, and fourteen monitors, but it was pretty normal and surprisingly clean. He did have two monitors with a pretty serious setup, but it wasn’t overwhelming the room. It just looked like a normal guy’s room.</p><p>“Food’s almost here,” Clay said after glancing at his phone. “What movie did you want to watch?” He turned to George.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t mind. We can watch whatever.”</p><p>Clay turned to you. “Y/N? Any ideas?”</p><p>“Harry Potter?” You suggested. It was the first thing to come to mind.</p><p>“I love Harry Potter,” Clay responded, clapping his hands together.</p><p>“She only wants to watch it because she has a crush on Alan Rickman. What’s wrong with you, Y/N?”</p><p>“That is a coincidence,” You defended. “It’s also just a great series. We could watch all of them over the next few weeks, if you want.”</p><p>Both Clay and George shrugged, again having the same mannerisms.</p><p>Clay hopped up from his desk and left the room as the doorbell rang. George was close behind him, but stopped next to you.</p><p>“This is...crazy.” He said.</p><p>“I know,” You responded.</p><p>“We are thousands of miles away from home. I can’t believe that this is happening.”</p><p>You just smiled at him and stood up, following Clay downstairs. George was on your trail, right behind you. As you got down the stairs, Clay was just closing the door, holding the bag in one hand.</p><p>He handed the food off to you, yelling, “Follow me!” as he bounded across the house. He took a right at the living room, and down a set of stairs that you hadn’t noticed before.</p><p>You followed him, slightly wearily, downstairs. It was a dark room. When Clay flipped a switch, lights illuminated a walkway and a large room.</p><p>“So, this was a basement. I think it might have been a gym.” The blond said, holding his hands up and turning. “But, I’m a Minecrafter. What do I need a gym for? So I renovated it into a home theater.”</p><p>“You did this?” George asked.</p><p>“Well, I didn’t do shit, really,” Clay laughed. “I hired people to do it, but yes. Essentially, I did it.”</p><p>Clay walked over to you, grabbing the Chick-Fil-A from your hands, and sat down on the lowest couch in the theater, closest to the tv. There were three rows, and each couch would fit all of you.</p><p>You were going to sit next to George, but realized when Clay sat down that he left no room for that. He sat directly in the middle, with space for each of you on his sides. George sat on the closer side to the exit, sprawling out quickly, and bringing his feet up on the foot rest. There was no questioning that you’d have to sit on Clay’s other side, nearest the wall. You were lucky that the room was still dark, because a blush covered your cheeks as you sat down, right next to Clay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. big scary Minecraft man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You ate your Chick-Fil-A silently while Clay pulled up the first Harry Potter movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Him and George were still laughing and messing around with each other, and you smiled at them, trying not to be too much of a nuisance. You were trying not to feel like the baby sister who was dragged along because mom said so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After finishing his food, George was asleep in minutes. It was 9 p.m. in America, but it was 2 a.m. in the U.K.. George was exhausted from working the whole time, but you weren’t tired yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was entertaining to you that George fell asleep as fast as he did, considering he always stayed up late editing and streaming. George was always the first to fall asleep when you watched movies at home. He was just the type of person to pass out in fifteen minutes and wake up at the end, talking about how good it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glanced over your shoulder, past Clay, to look at George. You chuckled. He had his feet curled under him and he was tucked into a ball underneath a soft blanket that he was sharing with Clay. You weren’t surprised that he was asleep, nor that they were sharing a blanket together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down in the basement, it was actually getting quite cold, and you were starting to regret coming down in just a tank top and shorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood up saying, “It’s freezing, I’m going to go grab my sweater from upstairs-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you could take another step, Clay stood up, halting you. He pulled his own sweatshirt off, over his head. You couldn’t help but notice his shirt riding up as he did so, but you quickly slid your eyes back up to his as his head popped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take mine,” He said, pushing it into your hands gently. You couldn’t exactly refuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, alright,” You mumbled, cocking your head to the side as Clay sat back down, all nonchalant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bit big on him, which made it very big on you. It dropped past your shorts, and ended much past your fingers. You sat back down, completely enveloped in his sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your legs were still mostly uncovered, however, and you could feel goosebumps rising. You didn’t understand how there could be such a drastic difference in temperature by the floor, but you were so cold all of a sudden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was another ten minutes before Clay stretched the blanket to cover you as well. The other end that George was being covered by slipped and the blanket was pulled off of him. The blanket was large, but you were all pretty far away from each other. George huffed in his sleep and pulled it back, which made the blanket pull off of you. Clay watched it happen, one eyebrow raised in amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back and forth between you and your brother, and you shrugged at him. You didn’t need the blanket, and you definitely weren’t going to get it from a sleepy George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than, I don’t know, grabbing another blanket? Turning on the heater? Or, maybe just letting you deal with the cold on your own, Clay took it upon himself to solve the problem. He gestured you closer to him with one hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his hand, urging you to scoot next to him. You looked back up into his eyes and cocked your head in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” He said, as though it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here?” You repeated. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, gesturing to the empty spot between the two of you. “You’re cold. Blanket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that cold,” You shook your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay gave you a look that you couldn’t distinguish in the dark. You didn’t know what he wanted until he leaned over and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried to protest, but Clay just shushed you and covered you with the blanket again. You were thankful for the darkness, as it covered the bright red blush that burned across your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to be gentleman-like. That means keeping you comfortable,” Clay said, eyes focused on the movie in front of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried to ignore the fact that you were now basically touching him, but couldn’t. “I understand that,” You sighed, glancing over at the sleeping George. “But if my brother wakes up to see me within one foot of a boy, regardless of how close you two are, he’d probably send me to my room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay laughed. “Trust me, I am not scared of George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, big scary Minecraft man, isn’t afraid of anything,” You looked at him, seeing his eyes were locked on the projector, but he was grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You continued to watch the movie and quickly got sucked into the magical world. It was an effective distraction from your thoughts of Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was halfway through the movie when you were reminded of him yet again. You were quite comfortable now, and just enough from his sweatshirt and the blanket; not to mention the heat that was radiating off of him. He pulled the blanket off you, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want something to drink?” He asked, staring down at you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain function: shut down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head: empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Think: none.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stuttered for a moment. “Uh, yeah-I-um, sure. Yes, please.” What the fuck was wrong with you? Calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Water? Soda? Wine?” He listed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled. “Y’know I can’t legally drink here, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can at home,” He shrugged. “What’s the difference?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just have a soda. Coke if you have it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came back a few minutes later, but he didn’t have any beverages with him. Instead, he was holding a cat that you hadn’t noticed in the last several hours of being in his home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a cat,” You pointed out, obviously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Patches!” He smiled, holding her out in front of him. “She’s my baby and I love her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s precious,” You said. “Uhh, hey Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drinks?” You reminded him, a small grin on your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, right. I forgot. Got distracted by the kitty. I’ll be right back.” Clay set Patches down on the ground and ran back up the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You kept your eyes on the multicolored cat as she paced around the room. When her eyes settled on you, she paused, staring intensely. Your gaze flickered from Patches to the projector, and then back to Patches. She was inching toward you, slowly. Leaning forward, you brought your hand down to the floor to let her sniff your fingers. Cats were tricky little things; one wrong move and they’d hate you forever. Luckily, Patches seemed friendly. She strode up to you bravely and even began to lick you as she sniffed. You turned your hand over, scratching gently at her soft chin. She tilted her head up, letting out a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>mrrow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You didn’t expect her to be so nice, and you definitely didn’t expect her to jump immediately into your lap, pressing her head against your stomach lightly before rolling onto her back, tummy exposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were completely entranced by Patches, so much so that you didn’t hear Clay come back down the stairs. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsk</span>
  </em>
  <span>ed at George, who was still sleeping, and handed you a cold Coke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he noticed his cat lying comfortably in your lap, his jaw dropped and he smiled.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “She loves you!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You just smiled in response. She was indeed precious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay got back under the blanket, this time by lifting it off of George as not to disturb Patches. He leaned over, face inches away from the cat as he made soft coos at her, trying to get her attention. Patches kept her eyes trained on you, and even began to shut her eyes as you caressed the top of her soft little head. She completely ignored Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “What the hell?” Your eyes met his in concern. “You’re stealing my cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe it’s stealing if she willingly laid down here,” You mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might not be stealing but it is coercion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t coerced your cat, Clay,” You laughed. “She’s just cuddling. Is there a problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem at all,” He sighed. Then he stretched, bringing his left arm over your shoulder to rest on the couch above you. His other hand was holding a coke as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sank a little further down your seat when he did that, away from him, remembering a chat you had with George on the plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, you’ve been talking to Dream a lot,” George said, not taking his eyes off his computer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your phone. Your messages with him were open, and you’d been trying to think of how to respond to him. “Like I said, he’s been texting me. I’ve been responding.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not going to be weird, right?” George asked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You stared down, not responding.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y/N?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, it’s not going to be weird. Why would it be weird?” You brought your eyes up, E/C staring into brown.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I think he likes you, Y/N.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You scoffed, not believing that at all. “Yeah, right,” You laughed. Unlikely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He won’t stop talking about you. I think he’s more excited to meet you than to meet me,” George mumbled the last part.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s not true, George. You’re his best friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know that. I know. This whole thing is weird. I’m excited that we’re going, I’m just a bit concerned, is all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aww, Georgey-poo is nervous. Don’t be. I have no intention of trying to steal him away from you,” You reassured, while also joking with him. You didn’t know how to comfort without humor, so you tried to make him laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, good. Because Dream is off-limits. Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OOooooooooOoooooOo, author said the title! Author said the title!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I have...like, snacks?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clay was not allowed. According to George, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A bit dramatic, you thought, but it was your brother. He was allowed to be dramatic over you talking to boys, especially since this boy was his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were sat, slouched in your seat, trying to get as far away from Clay’s arm as you could without being weird about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay was oblivious to your attempts to get further away from him, and even dropped his arm from the couch a few feet to rest it on your shoulder. You jumped when his hand landed gently, and Patches stared up in annoyance. You apologized to her, stroking her soft fur. Clay’s thumb began to rub soft circles on your shoulder and you shuddered. All of your senses were on high alert. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not allowed. Not allowed. Not allowed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes flicked from the screen to Clay. “Whatcha doing?” You tried to say casually. It didn’t work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a sip of his drink, and said, “Are you cold still?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright now, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay raised an amused eyebrow, but stayed focused on the movie. He didn’t move his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few stiff moments, you rolled your shoulders, making his arm fall down. He retracted his arm, putting it back on the couch above you. You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back in your seat, still aware of his close presence, but at least he wasn’t touching you anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches nuzzled her head into your thigh, making you chuckle softly. George forgot to tell you that Clay had a cat and you were loving the feline’s affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you know,” Clay started, amusement lining his features, “That if she goes missing in three weeks, I’m flying up to Europe myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you insinuating that I’m going to steal Patches and fly back home with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes. “I would not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you making googly eyes at her. I’m just warning you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches yawned stared up at you. You smiled, leaning down to touch your nose to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay scoffed, but went back to the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, you realized how tired you were. The jetlag was finally catching up, and barely halfway through the movie, you felt your eyes closing. You tried to keep them open, but they just wouldn’t stay up. Even your head began to fall as you fell asleep a few times, but you cocked your head back up, determined to finish the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only 10 p.m., you were disappointed in yourself for not being able to keep yourself up, but you were too tired to finish it. You set your coke down and resolved to stay awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As your eyes fluttered closed for the fifth or sixth time, you felt Clay tap you. You peered up at him, blinking several times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” You mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay grinned a lopsided smile. “Both of you need to go to sleep. In an actual bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You waved your hand away at him, saying, “No, no. I’ll make it. It’s almost the end of the movie,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned toward you. “You’ve been falling asleep for the last ten minutes. You’re tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No m’not,” You mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, you’re literally falling asleep right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” You pushed against his chest lightly, but he didn’t budge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled in return and you saw him roll his eyes jokingly. “Alright. Fine. No bed for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed contentedly and went back to your resting position. You did try to stay up and watch the rest of the movie, but you really couldn’t help it. Pretty soon, you were asleep again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What you didn’t notice was when you slowly began to slide over in your sleep. You ended up resting against Clay’s arm. He was sitting there, quite shocked and most likely bored with both you and George now passed out, with you perched against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, but just let it happen, knowing you were going to have a fit when you woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You woke with a start when a loud song began, indicating that the credits were rolling. Your back ached when you realized the position you were in. Your brain started buzzing when you realized you were lying against Clay, one arm wrapped around his torso. You started blushing immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes went to George first, and luckily, he was still asleep on the other end of the couch. You hadn’t even noticed that Patches wasn’t on you until you saw her cuddled up on George’s lap, asleep. Next, your gaze drifted up to the blond wearily. You didn’t know how to remove yourself without being awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay met your eyes and you melted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knock it off. No melting allowed. Compose yourself, idiot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You cleared your throat and pulled your arm away, straightening your back and stretching your stiff bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Clay said, reaching down to grab the remote from the floor. He turned the tv off, sending the room into complete darkness, and turned his back to you, popping his back. He grabbed another remote from the floor and the lights instantly turned on. You cringed at the sudden change of lighting, squinting at him. The room had been dark the entire time you’d been down there, and you hadn’t gotten a good look at it until then. It was a reasonably sized room with three giant layered couches, and just a wall on the other side. The tv was a projector from the back of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the time?” You asked groggily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost eleven thirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You groaned into the hood of the sweatshirt and decided that it was time to get up. 11:30 Florida time meant 4:30 a.m. London time. It was much past your bedtime. You stood up and stretched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You snore, by the way.” Clay said, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around quickly and held your hands up in confusion. “Excuse me? No I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow. “You do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head, annoyed. “I swear, these last few weeks we’ve been getting along great over text, and now I get here, and all you do is joke with me,” You laughed. “What’s up with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? I’m being friendly. This is how I am with all of my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were tired and a bit embarrassed, and felt yourself taking it out on Clay. You huffed out a breath and sat back down on the couch. Patches head shot up, staring straight at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a warning,” Clay said, changing the subject. “If you leave your door open, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> end up sleeping with you. And possibly suffocating you in your sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s how I go, then that’s how I go,” You said, a smile crossing your features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay then tapped on George’s leg, trying to wake him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s eyes cracked open, adjusting to the light. He jumped a bit when he noticed Patches sleeping on him. “Hello, little babyyy,” He said to the cat, petting her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay clapped his hands together. “I’m not tired, but I know you two are, so it’s bedtime, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were back upstairs, closing your door when you realized that you still had Clay’s hoodie on. You debated taking it off and putting it in the living room for him, but hesitated. You were already in your room. And it was late, and you were tired. Tomorrow, you decided, you would give it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You fell asleep easily in the comfortable bed. You were so tired that it was only minutes before your eyes were closed for the night, not even thinking about everything that had happened with Clay in the last few hours. You knew that you’d be thinking about it for the next few weeks, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You woke up at seven the next morning due to the sun shining directly in your eyes. The curtains covering the windows were so sheer that they did nothing to block it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You groaned into the pillow and rolled onto your other side, but it didn’t help. You were awake now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After checking the weather app on your phone, you decided to dress in shorts and a t-shirt. It was in the 90’s. You didn’t exactly understand the American temperature scale, but you assumed that 90 was hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked into the living room and sat on the big white couch. Clay’s house was surprisingly well decorated. You were pretty sure that it wasn’t him. Even in Minecraft, Clay wasn’t exactly known for home decor. His house, however, was amazing. It had tall windows and plants everywhere. They were probably fake, but it still made the room glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen attached to the living room was giant, but it looked so pristine that it was probably never used. And thinking about it, you didn’t think that Clay knew how to cook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your thought was turned into a reality when Clay waltzed into the room, asking what you wanted for breakfast from Ihop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even have food in your kitchen?” You asked, dropping your phone into your lap to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad idea. He was cute. He was wearing a pair of light gray joggers and a plain black t-shirt. His hair was ruffled in a way only sleep could do, and he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His morning voice too...immaculate. “I have...like, snacks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fruit? Milk? Jars of </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Are all of those cupboards empty?” When he nodded his head, you laughed. “How are you even alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “My parents come by all the time. They feed me a lot. Other than that, I mostly just order takeout and DoorDash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it. I’m teaching you how to cook.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. That was coercion.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you have eggs?” You asked, head cocked. You’d been trying to think of what you wanted for breakfast for quite a while, but Clay had virtually no food in his kitchen. You were perched on top of the counter, legs criss-crossed, staring at him standing in the center of the room. He looked very uncomfortable in this room of his house, obviously not usually entering it longer than it took to grab some snacks and head out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I do have eggs,” He confirmed, nodding his head excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bread?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, looking at the ground. “I think so. I don’t know where it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t-Clay, what the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his head down on the counter next to you. “I don’t know! My mom just drops things off and puts them away. I don’t always know what I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your fucking kitchen,” You reprimanded, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stuttered out a response, but dropped it. It was no use arguing with you. He didn’t even know where the shit in his kitchen was. He brought his head back up and began to search. Not surprisingly, the bread was in a conveniently labeled box, called, “bread box.” Who woulda thought?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what are we doing with these?” He asked, taking the carton of eggs out of the fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to teach you how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fry an egg,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” You said, raising your eyebrows at him and doing jazz hands in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’ve never fried an egg before, Clay.” When he didn’t respond, you groaned. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty-one years old. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How have you never fried eggs? And do not say your mom always made you breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth, but closed it instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious? Clay…” You tried to think of what to say next, but your mind came up blank. How could he survive for this long purely on take-out and food from home?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m...lucky, I guess. I’ve never had to learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you are learning today, love. Grab a frying pan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he hesitated again, you laughed out loud. This was going to be a long process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, you were sitting back in the same position on the counter, head in your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you mess up...</span>
  <em>
    <span>eggs</span>
  </em>
  <span>...that badly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I-I swear to God, I did everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked around at the smoke that was rising in the kitchen, away from the pan. The pan was smoking, the toaster was smoking, and you were disappointed. “You nearly burnt down the damn kitchen! Your first time using it!” You shook your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stumbled into the kitchen as Clay began to pour the somehow overcooked and burnt, yet raw eggs into the trash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed nervously. “I was going to ask what was for breakfast, but I don’t think that I want to know anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N tried to teach me how to cook...it didn’t go well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell,” The brunet said. He took one whiff of the room and began to cough. “What were you making?” He asked hesitantly, probably not wanting to know the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eggs. Fried eggs.” You said, and clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brother raised an eyebrow. “And it didn’t go well, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, not exactly.” Clay nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we ordering for breakfast, then?” George asked, pushing the nearly empty carton of eggs to the side and hopping onto the counter next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were picking raspberries out of a carton and eating them. Clay somehow hadn’t opened his fridge in a couple days and didn’t know he had them. George reached over and took a little handful, eating them one at a time. Clay was leaning against the opposite counter, facing the two of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was planning on getting Ihop before Y/N suggested we cook something. Pancakes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About half an hour later, you were sitting on the floor in front of the tv in the living room, eating. George and Clay were sitting on the couch, digging into their pancakes. They were trying to teach you about speedrunning. It was going well, but you were a bit confused. Clay put on one of his world-record videos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About ten minutes in, you turned your head up at the boys. “You just...do the same thing over and over until you get really lucky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clay confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds...boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be, but it’s worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged, not sure how he could find so much enjoyment out of repeatedly beating the game. Not to get you wrong; you loved Minecraft. You could see the appeal of the game. You enjoyed it a lot. It was a fun game. You didn’t play Minecraft for the challenges, though. You played it for the creativity. You played it for the builds and for the flowers. Not to beat it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After finishing his food, George stood up with his trash and walked out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were distracted by the video, but the hair on the back of your neck stood when you felt Clay’s breath on your skin. You felt a hand touch your middle back lightly and your spine shot up. “I’m going to need that hoodie back sometime, by the way.” His voice was deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blinked, unmoving. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoodie? Oh yeah, the one he gave you last night.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The breath caught in your throat, so you just nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this...Minecraft YouTuber, your brother’s best friend, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>piss baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>...was he really affecting you like this? What was wrong with you? You knew it wasn’t allowed. George had told you that much. But there were so many other things that you needed to think about before diving head first into this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was American...and no, you didn’t have anything against Americans, but he was thousands of miles away, and you weren’t about to put the time in for someone who you couldn’t see regularly. Not only was he thousands of miles away, but also hours away in time zones. And again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>off limits. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not allowed. How many times was that supposed to go through your head before it stuck? Clay, as nice as he was to look at, and as lovely as he was to spend time with, was not going to be worth it. These thoughts went by in milliseconds, and by the time you made up your mind, his hand was still on your back, rubbing light circles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around and gave Clay a tight smile. “Of course, I’ll go get it now-” You started to stand up, but his fingers clutched at the fabric of your shirt, holding you still. It was a soft grasp. You could’ve gotten out if you wanted to, but his words made you halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. It’s okay. You can keep it for now. Don’t worry about when,” He smiled and winked. Again, really? He needed to knock it off before you changed your resolve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” You said softly, staring into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand slipped away as you dropped your head. You could hear George approaching again and didn’t want to get caught in an awkward position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we still going out today?” George asked, sitting on the arm of the couch and falling backward onto it. He was always such a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Clay nodded. “I don’t know exactly what you want to do, but I’m sure there’s lots around here. I’ve never exactly given anyone a tour of Orlando.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You knew that they expected you to come with, but you hesitated. They barely had a moment alone to do their bro-stuff. They were supposed to stream together too, but you weren’t sure about the timeline they were following. They’d most likely be streaming together later this afternoon or tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You zoned out as they spoke about the plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get ready, Y/N.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head perked up and you cocked your head. “I-Are you sure? You guys don’t want some friend time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with us, idiot,” Your brother said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, George,” You shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want to be dragged around all day. I’m fine with staying here, napping, doing homework, anything. Maybe cooking dinner,” You suggested, laughing. “I could go shopping and make something super good. I just don’t think I need to come with you guys on every little adventure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay cut in. “This is the biggest day we have planned. You’re not allowed to miss out on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Gogy,” You teased. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I could take a nap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay leaned forward again, putting his hand on your back again, running it up and down. “Y/N, come keep us company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your spine straightened for the second time in the last five minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain: malfunction (again).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head: fuzzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts: hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. No, no, no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes drifted to your brother, who wasn’t paying much attention to the scene in front of him. Thank God, too. But he was too busy on his phone. Probably checking Twitter or Instagram. How was he not seeing this??</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your neck around and shrugged. When you agreed, you scurried off to your room to get ready. For some reason, Clay got up and followed. You felt him on your heels as you moved quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened the door, but turned around and crossed your arms. “You know what you said about coercion last night?” You asked Clay, eyebrows furrowed. Not in anger, but more amusement. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was coercion. I don’t appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not coercion. You know you want to come with us,” Clay smiled, lopsidedly. He pushed your shoulders gently with both hands, guiding you into the guest room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I-” You huffed. “I don’t know what I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. You’ll figure it out soon, though. And I hope you do.” He closed the door in front of him, and walked away. You stood there for at least a minute, wondering if he knew what you’d been talking about.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I'm old enough to bang your mother,</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You were sitting in the back seat of Clay’s car, right behind him, on your way home from the day’s adventures. It was fun, visiting around and finding little things to do in town that weren't just Disney. The group was saving Disney World for when Nick arrived, so you could all go together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, you just went around, did a bit of shopping and saw a lot of the generic sights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George got recognized, understandably, but when someone came up to him excited, Clay would pull you aside and pretend you didn’t know George. It worked quite effectively, because no one knew what either of you looked like, but it also left George to deal with the fans all on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got a lot of alone time to joke around with Clay while this was happening, as someone came up to George every 30 minutes or so. You’d just continue walking when someone came up to him, walking into the nearest store, or continuing until you got around a corner or to a bench, where you’d sit down with Clay and wait it out. No one suspected a thing. When you’d wait for the fan to leave, Clay would mostly just tease you about how you’d blush at everything he said, or how you got so distracted by the little bobbles in the stores.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was too much walking today, and you all decided to go home early. The trip was fun, though, and you were glad you chose to come with. Mostly so that Clay didn’t get an accidental face reveal while you were all out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was beginning to fall now, and you stared at the high rising buildings as the car rolled down the road. As the light from the sky faded, lights began to illuminate the city from the structures. All sorts of colors casted between buildings, and soon, everything was bright again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys were talking about something boring-maybe what they’d stream when they got back. You listened lightly, not completely enveloped in the conversation, but tuned in only to listen to Clay’s smooth and deep voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was some unspoken tension between Clay and you. You weren’t sure how it had led up to this, but it was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. You noticed that his eyes were always following you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt a bit guilty; you were there for George, not Clay. But his constant gaze on you was driving you absolutely insane. Even while out shopping today, whenever George was distracted by something, Clay would do everything he could to make eye contact with you or move you lightly just as an excuse to touch you. It was making you go crazy. Even now, in the car, you felt his eyes occasionally peer at you in the rear-view mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were honestly glad to be back at the house, as him and George now had plans to stream. You knew that it would be a few hours of them distracted; enough to finally calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay pulled into the driveway and opened your door, holding out a hand. If he was planning on helping you out of the car, you disappointed him by grabbing your bags from the day’s shopping spree and placing them in his outstretched hand and hopping out yourself. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head back, laughing at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then,” He muttered while chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You only spared him only a single glance as you walked inside. You left the bedroom door open on purpose after seeing Patches lying peacefully on the couch, hopeful that she’d come to snuggle. You jumped on your bed, grabbing your laptop, and started some homework. After a few minutes, you heard your phone </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding </span>
  </em>
  <span>with a notification. It was Twitch. George’s Twitch, to be specific.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your emotions got the better of you and you ended up clicking on the notification, opening the stream. You smiled at their introduction. The chat was frenzying at the fact that they were actually in the same room as each other, finally. It wasn’t a lie this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~*Clay and George Perspective*~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George chuckled, watching the chat fly by. He had his set up on the desk in Clay’s room, right next to Clay’s setup. “Alright chat...I know I don’t have my camera on. I know. I’m sorry.” He peered over at Clay, who was right over his shoulder, waiting to make his introduction. “As I’ve been tweeting, I am currently in Florida, meeting Dream for the very first time. And he’s actually sitting right next to me right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, guys!” Clay rang in loudly. “We’re live! Together! Right now! Both of us! In the same room!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which also means that today, I won’t have my facecam on, unfortunately. Only I get the privilege of knowing what Dream’s beautiful face looks like,” George teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww,” Clay smiled. “Y’hear that, chat? I’m beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Visiting America for the first time has been crazy. I met a few fans, saw a few things, and now we’re streaming! So, it’s time to get into some Minecraft at last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t played in days,” The blond admitted, adjusting the microphone that was set up between the two. “Too busy preparing the house and hanging out with you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They played on his SMP for a while, messing around, calling their other friends up, and generally causing a bit of chaos together. They added Sapnap to the call, laughing as he loudly joined the server, and then the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream! George! I’m pissed off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” George asked. “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys-you’re hanging out without me! That’s the matter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay rolled his eyes. “Sapnap, you get here in like three or four days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s too long. I’m missing out on all the DreamTeam moments,” Sapnap whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George leaned into his mic, whispering, “Can you tell he’s the youngest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sapnap’s character punched George’s in game. “Hey, I’m old enough to bang your mother, so shut the hell up, Gogy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George fake-gagged and hit Sapnap with an enchanted Netherite axe, which prompted a fight to break out between the two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, no...boys. Boys. Calm down.” Clay said, laughing. “Sapnap! George! Knock it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They joked around on stream for the next two hours, only stopping when it hit seven p.m. because Y/N had texted George, complaining that she was hungry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stream ended and George stood up to stretch. He fell onto Clay’s bed, dropping his phone. “Hey, Dream-err, Clay…” George had to get used to switching back and forth, on and off-stream. He rarely ever called him Clay, and never did so online. On the few phone calls they’d had about serious topics, he’d call him by his real name. Now that he was in person, it was tough to get adjusted to the change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay didn’t respond. He was staring down at his phone, not moving from the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, George wasn’t one to get frustrated. Especially with his close friends, let alone his closest friend in the whole world. However, George was getting frustrated now. He could feel the tension between him and his sister for the last 24 hours. He had one eyebrow raised at the back of his friend’s head. Clay had his phone in his hand, and he was smiling down at it. George had some suspicion that he was messaging Y/N, and not ordering DoorDash, like he’d been asked to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunet sighed. “Do I have to give you the exact same speech that I gave to Y/N on the plane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s head whipped around, concern spreading across his features. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m talking about Y/N and you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his phone, which was indeed open to his messages with George’s sister. “I’m confused,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not allowed. She’s my sister, Clay! That’s-I-come on, dude. My sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...talked to Y/N about me?” The blond asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said that you’re off-limits. So is she. Just as I said to her, she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t care if you have a little crush, that’s fine, whatever. But keep it to yourself, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sighed. “George, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George interrupted him. “Please? Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay bit his lip, nodding. He didn’t want to piss off his best friend...but the attraction was blinding. He couldn’t stop thinking about her since the first time he spoke to her. Now that she was here...it was even worse. So much more intense. He didn’t know why, but his thoughts were constantly about her. Like her reaction when she was surprised about something he said or did. Like when she would drop her eyes to the floor if he stared at her too intensely. Like when she would straighten her back when he touched her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just hoping that it wasn’t a mistake, bringing her here.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. If I see the opportunity,</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You gasped in surprise as you saw a furry little head peek around the door, pushing it open a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby!” You said excitedly, holding your arms out for Patches. You pushed your laptop out of the way as the feline hopped onto your bed. She curled her body against your hip. Not long after, you felt the pulsing sensation course through the cat and into your side. You scratched the top of her head and cooed lightly at her as she purred into you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your door was pushed open fully, squeaking as it did so, and you glared at the boy entering. It was your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s almost here. We just ordered for you, because you’re indecisive and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “Thanks. What am I getting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chipotle. Your usual, if it’s still the same as it used to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” You commented, pulling yourself into an upright position. As if you’d ever change your order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. “You know, Clay’ll get pissed if he sees that you’re stealing his cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay is, in fact, aware, and also threatened to follow us back to England if he notices that she’s missing.” Thinking about it, that wasn’t such a bad idea. Clay coming to the U.K.? I mean, it’d only be fair for him to travel as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “Please don’t steal Patches, Y/N.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You groaned. “Fine. Only because you said ‘please.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner!” Clay shouted from the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s head perked up, and so did Patches’. She stood up, did the little upside-down-u stretch that cats do after they nap, and bounded out of the room to see what her owner was yelling about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood too, once both were out of the room. You grabbed a black sweatshirt off the floor, assuming it was the Dream merch you’d brought from home. After putting it on, you realized that it was actually the sweatshirt that Clay had let you borrow the night before. You rolled your eyes. You weren’t about to change it, so you walked out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s eyes met yours, and then dropped to his hoodie, raising one eyebrow at you. His expression was unreadable. His eyes shot back up to yours and his head tilted back, just enough to show off his sharp jawline. You were standing there, just waiting for him to point it out. Waiting for him to say something; anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was standing right next to you, but didn’t notice. You were starting to realize how oblivious he was to most things. You thought that he’d bring it up to you. It was obvious how you and Clay acted around each other. Was he letting it slide, or was he just unaware?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang, interrupting the silence that was blooming in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, George, could you answer that?” Clay asked. “I was going to go get us some drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, no problem.” George said, leaving the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he paced toward the front door, Clay walked over to you, turned you around, and lightly pushed you out of the room, toward where you believed the garage was. You let him lead you there, presuming that’s where the drinks were, and that he wanted some help grabbing them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the door closed, you stumbled back as you were suddenly pressed firmly into it, feet almost failing to work. Clay was clutching your waist, holding you there. Your eyes were wide and you had grabbed onto his shirt as you fumbled to stay upright. His face was just inches away from yours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making it really hard to stay away from you, y’know?” He said, green eyes boring into yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You breathed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what you’re doing.” He said. His body was so close to yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath hitched in your throat. “I don’t-I don’t know what you mean,” You said lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” He asserted. “Wearing my sweatshirt on purpose? Did you want me to say something? To point it out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes dropped. “Come on, Clay,” You sputtered. He was getting closer and closer every second he held you. “I don’t want George to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn George,” Clay growled, gripping your sides even tighter. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pushed lightly on his chest, reaching desperately for any distance. “O-Okay, but I do,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head, eyes curious. “Are you sure?” He leaned in closer, tilting his head further and toward your exposed neck and you felt his lips graze the soft skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay-” You started, breathing completely halted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused immediately, pulling away only centimeters. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the right time,” You mumbled, though you desperately wished that wasn’t true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away completely, but kept his hands clutched at your waist. “Do you want-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me that question, Clay. Drinks, please. George is probably wondering where we’re at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His arms dropped to his sides and he took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When is the right time?” He asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps when my brother isn’t breathing down our necks,” You suggested, biting your lip. Your eyebrow quirked up as you opened the fridge next to you, examining it for beverages. There were water bottles, sodas, wine bottles, juice boxes-wait, juice boxes? You glanced at Clay in amusement. You grabbed a water bottle for yourself and George, and Clay leaned his arm past yours to grab a water bottle for himself, his body against yours. You shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s breath was hot in your ear. “Just letting you know,” He murmured, “If I see the opportunity, I’m going to take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded briskly and left the room. Clay wasn’t too far behind. You were nearly shaking. What was wrong with you? You’d been there for barely 24 hours, and you were already in some weird situation that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>should not be in.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You respected your brother, and if you hurt him, you’d be hurting yourself more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was sitting in the living room, unpacking the bag of takeout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You approached slowly, setting the water bottle down on the table silently for George, and sat on the floor to eat at the small coffee table. Clay sat next to George on the couch and began eating as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would not believe it-the delivery driver fucking recognized me. I told him this was an AirBnb, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay laughed, acting as though nothing had just happened between you two, while you still had butterflies in your stomach from the nearness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the large TV you'd been watching YouTube on this morning, George had been busy setting up the second Harry Potter movie. It seemed like he hadn’t even noticed that the two of you were both gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About half an hour into the movie, after all of the food was eaten and trash was promptly thrown away, you pulled yourself onto the couch, sliding onto the other side of George. As far away from Clay as possible. You didn’t want any repeats of last night. You were strictly staying away from now on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were already nervous around Clay as it was. If given the opportunity, he would take it? What does that mean? When was that going to be? Were you going to be able to hide it from George?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was now around 8 p.m. and you were finally beginning to relax. You’d finished your homework, eaten your food, and you were perfectly content by watching one of your favorite films. Nothing could go wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet again, you were proven incorrect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ringing of George’s phone interrupted your perfect ambience. His face turned in confusion when he looked at the caller ID.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum’s calling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it like, 1 a.m. at home?” You questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is,” George said, concerned. He stood up and walked out of the room, answering his phone. “Hello?” You heard as he exited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments went by before Clay turned to face you. You glanced at him, but went back to watching the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re off-limits,” Clay started, shaking his head softly and leaning slightly closer to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded, keeping one eye on him, the other on the door George had just walked out. “You’re off-limits too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we agree then?” He tipped his head forward, raising one eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agree on what?” You asked, nonchalant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a little grin on his face that was about to make you break your strong resolve. “That we say ‘screw it’ and kiss right now?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. I'd take it.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Is it finals week? Yes. Have I done literally anything besides write this fic and watch Supernatural for the last 12 hours? No.<br/>That's right, baby, I wrote 3 chapters in 12 hours.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You extended your hand, holding him away at a distance. For your own sake, and for his. You shook your head, “Clay-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand broke through the invisible wall you were desperately trying to keep up, and he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I told you that if I got the opportunity, I’d take it, Y/N.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes drifted down to his lips, which were looking quite kissable right now. You pushed his hand away. “Not the right time,” You repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in even further, breaking into your bubble once more. “Y/N, will you just let me kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t get to answer, because George walked back into the room, a smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum just wanted to say hi. Check up and all.” He laughed. “She said she’d been trying to sleep, but couldn’t until she talked to one of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you didn’t let me talk to her?” You said, pouting, pulling away from Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She asked how you were. I said you were fine. You can call her tomorrow, she was tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged. Clay moved himself from his awkward position and situated himself back in his original spot. George sat back down, glancing quickly between the two of you. He had to know. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This Harry Potter movie was the longest of them all, at around three hours. The rest of the movie went peacefully, and yet again, George was asleep in the middle of it. This time, though, you were grateful to have him as a barrier. Something to keep some distance between you and the fucking Minecrafter that was about to make you break every rule you’ve ever set for yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t like your brother’s best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t lie to your family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t put your emotions before your priorities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had these rules, specifically the last one, in place so that you didn’t get hurt or hurt anyone else. What was so tempting about Clay that was about to make you take all of that back? You never just put your morals on standby like you were this close to doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No boy had ever affected you like this. Not any of your exes. Not one crush. It was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>you first.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What the hell was happening?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment the movie was over, you ran. You don’t think you’d ever ran that quickly when it wasn’t for a sport. You left both a confused Clay and a grumpy George on the couch in your dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You needed to take a shower. Or just go to sleep. Mostly shower. A cold one, preferably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stripped your clothes off and turned on the running water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to stop thinking about Clay. Even though you had gotten through the movie, you hadn’t once taken your mind off him. The subtle glances that he got around George didn’t go unnoticed by you. He even texted you at one point. You knew it was all on purpose. He was trying so hard to get a reaction out of you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You played some music from your phone to distract yourself, but you noticed a text from Clay as you did so. You promptly ignored it. You got in the water, and turned it as cold as it could go. You soaked your hair under the cool water and washed yourself off, trying hard to keep your thoughts on anything except the tall blond who hadn’t left your thoughts in weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stayed in the shower for much longer than you should have; much longer than you needed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat on the floor against your bed, debating on whether or not to open his text. Once more, you let your emotions guide you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In annoyance, you changed Clay’s contact name. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dweam, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because you heard George call him that once as a joke, but the joke didn’t really make any sense anymore. You needed to keep your distance, and that meant no more messing around.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   You really gotta stop doing this to me, Y/N</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   i don’t want to do this, clay</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>   Come upstairs</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Let’s talk about it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Pwease?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God damnit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were you about to say no to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, not. It’s never that easy, is it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled on a clean pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, letting your wet hair hang in strands downs your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set your phone down on the bed and sighed. It was time to go face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tiptoed out of your room, peeking inside of George’s room. He was dead asleep. Something you never understood-George always slept with his door open. Every other hour of the day, he was locked away in solitude. His door was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>open, unless he was asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s door was closed, but the light was on. He was probably waiting for you. You hesitated. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s talk about it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Talk about what? The fact that he was trying to do everything in his power to mess you up? Your hand raised to knock but you dropped it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turn around. Go back downstairs. Go to sleep, you still hadn’t gotten through your jetlag yet. Your eyes were starting to close when you were watching that movie, it was time to go to bed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then you knocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you do that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay was standing there, hair wet, curling at the ends in little ringlets, a playful grin on his face. He wore a loose pair of gray sweatpants and a fitted black shirt. Your eyes met his in a fumble, not knowing where else to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood in front of him, about to turn around, hugging yourself awkwardly in the middle of the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took a shower, too?” He smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” You nodded sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached toward you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t take all the hot water, did I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You began to tremble. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This wasn’t right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No, actually I needed a cold one,” You sighed, trying to ignore the effect that just the simplest of his touches had on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cold shower?” His smile turned into a smirk and he raised his eyebrows suggestively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed and pushed him lightly. “You’re disgusting, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. Get the hell in here.” His voice was soft as he gestured you in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked in, trying to seem confident. Like you had a backbone of some kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat in the middle of his large bed. It was surprisingly firm, but his blankets were warm and soft. Clay sat at his headboard, just staring at you. Waiting for you to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...wanted to talk?” You volunteered after a minute of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about?” He repeated, laughing. “I don’t know, maybe the obvious tension? The near-kiss? The-the-the garage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You breathed out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay, you know that George isn’t okay with this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said you were, God, what were his words?” Clay leaned his head back, hitting the wall lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed?’” You quoted back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay snickered, throwing his head back down and rolling his eyes. “He’s so over-dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile dropped and he leaned forward. “Y/N, you know how I feel-you know what I want to do-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stammered in response, “No. Clay, no. Not allowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a hand through his wet hair. “God, don’t you see? The fact that I’m not allowed just makes it oh-so-much more tempting,” He breathed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You closed your eyes tight, but you felt him getting closer. Were you about to let this happen? It felt wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his lips that connected to yours, just moments later? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt extremely right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were soft, but persistent; pushing their way past your little self-preservation bubble that’d been about to pop since you laid eyes on him. Clay’s hand was in your hair, pulling softly at it. Your head tipped back, making more room for him, which he gladly took advantage of. The hand that wasn’t in your hair that was resting on the bed next to you moved to your lower back, pulling you toward him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know when he had moved positions, but he was now basically on top of you. Your body began to tremble in his hands, but he did a good job holding you tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay pulled away, lips disconnecting from yours. You breathed out a sigh and licked your dry lips. A second later, his lips were back on yours, even deeper and intense than before. You whined into his mouth, a soft, breathy sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled away the second time, you didn’t dare open your eyes. If you did, you’d be 100% convinced that the kiss had actually just happened. As long as your eyes were closed, there was still a good chance that you’d just imagined the whole thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you couldn’t keep your eyes closed forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When your eyes did finally flutter open, you were met with forest green marbles that pierced into you. Your breath caught in your throat-well, who were you kidding? You stopped breathing a few minutes ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay stared down at you with a look that you were afraid of. He was on his knees leaning over you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d done it. You fell. You took that leap, and you broke your rules. You thought you’d be angry at yourself, but really you just couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips felt against yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N?” He murmured softly, brushing your hair back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” You glanced down and realized that your clothes were sticking to your still-damp skin. Your face flushed bright red. Clay didn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it alright if I kiss you again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to laugh. “You’re asking that now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better late than never, I guess.” He shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...suppose,” You mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers grazed your chin, lifting it gently, and connected his lips once again to yours. Your eyes drifted shut. Both of Clay’s hands wandered to your waist. His thumbs pressed into your skin and pulled you against him even closer than he already was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell back to sit on the bed, bringing you with him. You were now sat on his lap, straddling him. His hands still brushed up and down your sides, and his mouth never moved from yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You positioned your arms around his neck, grasping for anything that would bring you even a little bit closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your resolve was completely gone. You now knew exactly what Clay meant now. You couldn’t care less at this moment if George found out. In fact, you sort of wished he would find out. That would probably take away all of the stress you had about this whole damn situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only George knew.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's 6 a.m. now. To sleep or to write more? Hope you enjoyed!! Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Now, where do we go from here?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Are you serious?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You woke with a start. For a moment, you thought everything that happened last night had been a dream, but it couldn’t be. You could still feel his lips on yours. His hands on your waist. In your hair. You couldn’t have dreamed all of that up. It was impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled yourself into a seated position and ran your hands through your hair, but found that it was knotted. You threw your head back and sighed, remembering Clay running his hands through your wet hair, tangling it. At the time you didn’t care. Remembering it brought heat to your face and you brought your pillow up to cover it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement at your side sent a jolt of panic through your body, but you relaxed when you noticed it was Patches. She was curled up on your side and you realized that your door was open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When had that happened?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Checking the time, you jumped up when you realized that it was already half past noon. When was the last time you slept in this late? Why hadn’t anyone woken you up yet?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Saturday morning, you supposed. No one was really in a rush to do anything today. You weren’t aware of any plans that’d been made. You got ready for the day, but that just consisted of putting on a thin, light pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a pair of socks. You did some makeup and attempted to do your hair, but got frustrated with it and threw it into a quick bun on the top of your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You checked your phone, but the boys weren’t streaming. They weren’t in the living room, either, apparently. Or the kitchen. You checked both of their rooms, but they weren’t there either. Or in the theatre room. You didn’t have any texts from either of them. You had absolutely no idea where they could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In one last ditch effort, you trudged your way back up the stairs. You didn’t think they were up there, but you wanted to take a peek anyways. The only room you’d been to on the second floor was Clay’s bedroom. You took the opportunity to venture around the upstairs, exploring what you hadn’t seen yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stumbled into a room that looked completely different from the rest of the house. Clay’s whole house was white walls, white furniture; the picture of modern. But this room was nothing like that. It was nearly antique, but new, with dark oak bookcases and as many books as you’d seen in one small room. The harsh white lighting of the rest of the house was absent. The room was almost completely illuminated by a soft luminescence coming from outside or the glow from the yellow lamps in the corners of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was covered in bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling. On the farther wall, there was even a fireplace. You didn’t think that a Florida home would need a fireplace, but you appreciated it for the aesthetic regardless. In the window, there was a little nook covered in cushions and a large knit blanket laid out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were books scattered around the room, some opened face down, some with several bookmarks, some with dog-eared pages, and some just stacked, waiting to be read. The rest were lined neatly on the shelves. None collected dust, though. It seemed completely neat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a little, corner office type space. It wasn’t meant for a whole library, but maybe just a library of one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice behind you made you jump. You turned around to see Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found my lair,” He teased, his body leaned against the doorframe. He stared at you with curiosity. Was he concerned to find you wandering around by yourself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lair?” You asked, turning back around to continue examining the room in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is like, my room of guilty pleasures, I guess.” He chuckled, looking at the floor. “I come in here when I’m stressed out, or when I want to write.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You write?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve written a few things. Started a book or two. Never really got around to finishing them, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked around the room, fingers brushing against the spine of each book as you passed by them. There were just...hundreds of books in here. You’d never seen this side of Clay before. You didn’t know that this part of him existed. Your hand stopped on one book aimlessly. You met Clay’s eyes with yours and pulled it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” You muttered to yourself, running your fingers over the cover. It was the second book in </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe </span>
  </em>
  <span>series. As far as you’d seen, there were both classics and moderns in his collection. Had he read all of these?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes flicked from the book to the window in front of you, and you saw the reflection of Clay moving toward you. Your body stiffened slightly, preparing for the impact of him. He was surprisingly touchy, which was one thing that you didn’t expect before coming here. Now that you’d been around him for a bit, you expected his hands to be on you whenever he had the opportunity to do so. When you went shopping, or when you were in the garage and in the living room alone. And when you were in his room the night previous. His subtle nudges and lingering brushes made your stomach flutter in a way you were pretty sure you’d never felt before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way up to you and you sucked in a breath. His hands reached out to your shoulders. Your spine was stiff as he twisted you around to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised a cursory eyebrow at Clay, but he just tipped his head to one side, staring at you quizzically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the book out of your hand, taking it softly. “This is my safe zone. No thinking about editing, or Minecraft, or Twitter, or my job, or my priorities, or even my fans. Only reading.” He placed the book back in the place it belonged. There was a small smile that was forming on his face as he spoke of his comfort room. “And thinking about things that don’t have to do with the internet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s George?” You asked, eyes shifting from him to the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taking a nap. He didn’t sleep well last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” You whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, neither did I.” He smirked. “I was a bit distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed. “You kicked me out twenty minutes in,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand traveled up your arm and rested at the corner of your jaw, where it met your neck. His thumb was lightly caressing the skin at your throat, which was making it incredibly hard for you to think properly. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t spend the whole night thinking about your lips,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was cheesy,” You gulped. Your face darkened, pinker than it already was. You tried to turn out from his grasp, but he twisted you right back into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cute when you blush,” Clay mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes at him and squinted, a question appearing in your head. “Where were you two? I woke up and the house was empty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We went out to lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And no one woke me up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I thought that if you felt anything like I’d felt last night, sleeping in was probably a good idea. I wish I coulda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I woke up with Patches,” You laughed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t try to suffocate me in my sleep. I think that’s a good thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved around you, taking a seat at the little reading nook in the window. “Ah, I opened your door for her. I’m glad she joined you.” He picked up one of the books from the stack next to him and flipped it over. His eyes slid across the words, not really reading it, just needing to do something with his hands now that they weren’t on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled. “Alright, well, if both of you could stop opening my door without knocking, that would be great.” You mumbled, “I really don’t want anyone to see something they don’t want to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay tipped his head to the side, contemplating your words. You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned back to face the shelf next to you. “Have you read every book in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not. There’s maybe a thousand in here. Maybe about half, I’ve read. Probably less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded slowly. Every day, you were learning a bit more about Clay. And the more you learned, the more you wanted to be with him. When you’d begun texting him, you got to know a funny side of him. You were getting to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ever since you’d arrived in Florida, you’d been getting to know Clay. He was funny. And smart. And a goofball. And annoyingly attractive. And he was doing everything he could to get under your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glanced back at Clay. He was staring down at the book in his hands still, thumbs rubbing the canvas cover. He felt your gaze on him and looked up. There was a moment of silence between you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked down, avoiding his eyes. His green eyes. They reminded you of the trees back home, in your backyard that were in full bloom right now. You missed home. You wished to be in the comfort of your house right now, back under your thick covers, listening to the way the rain would hit the roof. Your mind would be blank and you’d feel the level of peace you only felt in that situation. This room reminded you a lot of home, sans the rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay stood up a moment later. He stared down at you and you looked up cautiously. He ever-so-softly tilted your chin up, locking his lips onto yours. Your thoughts of home faded. The only thing on your mind was Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bookcase shook as Clay lightly pushed you against it. A book or two might’ve fallen over from the impact, but you were much too distracted to notice. His hand on your chin moved around to the back of your skull, holding you close to him as he kissed you, while his other hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you into him as he pushed you against the bookshelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body was hunched over, in a probably quite uncomfortable angle, but he didn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Don't make yourself miserable.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” George asked. His eyes showed no emotion, just confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay pulled away immediately, removing his limbs from you and twisting his head toward the intruder in the doorway. “George-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you both for one thing. One thing. And that was to not…” He clenched his teeth together. “Not...put me in this position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood, unmoving from your position against the bookshelf. “I’m sorry, George.” You stared at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He clenched them in fists at his sides, but let them go, saying softly, “You’re my sister, Y/N. And he’s my best friend. That-that’s not something you just do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s eyes flicked from George back to you. His green eyes creased softly at you, wordlessly apologizing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were flustered and confused, and you really didn’t want to deal with the situation. You pushed Clay away from you and maneuvered yourself around George, out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ran down the stairs, but you could hear Clay saying something. Apologizing to George, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ended up back in your room, frustratedly pacing around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were supposed to do on this trip was not engage with Clay like that. And you did it? What, did you think you were going to get away with it? For three weeks? No, it’s not that easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it your fault?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about it, it was Clay’s, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried so hard to avoid him; to avoid the temptation that came in the form of some tall, blond streamer that you couldn’t get your mind off of. You were successful, up until the very second he put his lips on yours. After that, all bets were off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ignored his flirting; you pushed him away when he got too close to you; you told him that it wasn’t the time; you told him that he wasn’t allowed to make any moves; you made it clear that if George was involved, it was going to go south. Why didn’t he listen? Why did he have to push you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped yourself onto the floor, sitting against your bed, staring at the ceiling fan. It was turning in slow circles, moving the stagnant air, thick air. You watched it rotate, trying to calm yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were embarrassed. You wished you hadn’t kissed Clay at all. Anything to make the horror of your brother catching you mid-snog with his best friend disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breathing was getting heavy. You took your hair out of the bun you’d put it in when you woke up and brushed it out with your fingers. Your hand blindly reached for your phone which was somewhere on the floor next to you. You pressed on the first short-cut as fast as you could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ringing ended as soon as it began.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello, Y/N, how are you, darling?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your mother’s soft voice asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes were closed. “I’m doing-” You paused. You were about to lie. “I’m not doing very good. I think I might be having a panic attack right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Honey, what’s the matter? What happened? Is everything alright?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I messed something up. Now George is mad at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mom laughed through the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought someone died or something actually bad happened. I’m sure he’s not really mad at you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s pissed. Royally. And I deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y/N, what happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You hesitated, whispering, “I kissed Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Clay? Like, Dream?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Your mother cackled. She was having a lot more fun than you were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? Now he’s mad! He walked in on me snogging his best friend!” You shouted. You’d always been very close with your mother, sharing every detail with her. There were no limits in your relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What is he, banned or something?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to George, yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y/N, he’s not allowed to call dibs just because he’s his friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently he is.” You groaned. “Mum, he’s pissed off. I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well firstly, pick yourself up off the floor.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You paused, opening your eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did she-</span>
  </em>
  <span>“How did you know I was on the floor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I’ve known you for 20 damn years, Y/N. Get up and go talk to them. You’ve got three whole weeks ahead of you. Don’t make yourself miserable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You knew you were going to be miserable if you let yourself simmer in your own self-pity-pool, so you agreed to take her advice. You hung up after you said your goodbyes and set your phone down on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ran your hands through your hair and breathed out deeply. You needed to talk to George, and just get everything out in the open. You didn’t want one kiss-well, those two kisses-to ruin this trip for everyone involved. Nick hadn’t even arrived yet, and there was already drama. You resolved to tell him everything, starting from the very beginning. It’s not like you had negative intentions with Clay, and you were pretty sure he didn’t either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard George’s door shut across the hall and made your way to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened his door slightly, peering inside. He was sitting on his bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He looked up when he noticed you, an eyebrow raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you talk to Clay?” You asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pushed your hip into the doorframe, crossing your arms. “And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head, eyes angry. You rarely saw George angry. “And? I’m pissed. I told you both that you were off-limits. I wanted a fun little trip with no drama, no tears, and no kissing. I met my best friend for the first time two days ago, and you’ve snogged him twice now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one that wanted me to come here in the first place!” You retaliated, gesturing into the air in frustration. “Don’t pull that with me. I didn’t want to come here at all. But I did because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked me to</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I asked you to come with me, it was because I didn’t want to go alone. Now I’m even more alone than if you’d stayed at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, come on,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stood up and walked over to where you were standing, making you step back. “Don’t ‘come on,’ me, Y/N. I asked you for one thing and you didn’t listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’ll stop. We’ll stop, if you want that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do want that.” George said before closing the door in your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You went back to your room, even more frustrated than you were before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried to do your homework, but your mind was buzzing. Your fingers twitched on your keyboard as you stared at the screen, but no thoughts were coming to your head. Your brain ached for some sort of stimulation, but all that came to mind was kissing Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. Not allowed. Come on, did you not learn anything from the last 24 hours?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your stomach grumbled and you realized that you still hadn’t eaten yet. Maybe that was one of the reasons why you couldn’t bring yourself to work on your homework.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stalked into the kitchen, trying to find some sort of sustenance. Besides some fruit, bread, and eggs, the only thing you found to eat were snacks. And you weren’t exactly ready to eat chips as your first meal of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You conceded to making yourself eggs and toast, despite the time of day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as you flipped the eggs, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced over your shoulder briefly and saw it was Clay. He was leaning against one of the walls, watching you cook. You quirked an eyebrow quickly and turned back to the stove. Just as you moved your eggs from the pan to the plate, the toast popped out of the toaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s four p.m., Y/N, why are you making eggs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not eaten,” You said, turning to face him, holding the frying pan out at him like a weapon. “And you two didn’t get me anything to eat when you went out, nor did I get breakfast. So, here I am, making myself eggs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tipped his head to one side, a grin forming on his face. He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered toward you. You watched him approach skeptically, keeping the pan between you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay reached out, pushing your wrist down, lowering the only defense you had against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were paused in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dared to get closer, and you looked up, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head. “Clay, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set the pan back on the stove roughly and scoffed. “Did you not just get reprimanded by George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” He nodded, continuing to approach. If he kept this up, you were going to snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so did I. Do you not care?” You breathed out heavily, overly aware of how he was making you feel. He looked too calm for you. You were nearly seething.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s your best friend,” You said. “Respect his wishes. That’s what I’m doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a damn,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You licked your lips but your mouth was bone-dry. “Then give a damn. I don’t know what to tell you, Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared down at you, somehow getting closer and closer, despite the fact that he wasn’t moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a step back, turning from him, but he gripped your arm and pulled you back into him. You wrenched your arm away from him and stared at him in disgust, but you were already basically wrapped in his arms. You pushed him away but he didn’t budge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in, still smiling softly, completely unaware of the fact that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. His head tilted down to yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you won’t respect his wishes,” You started, “Then please respect mine. Don’t kiss me again.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heyyyy so I made a discord server for funzies and all so if you want to maybe join it and talk about like Minecrafters or other fanfiction, please feel free! I'd like to get to know some of y'all :) especially if you enjoy reading what I write.<br/>https://discord.gg/WTtAgjYn52</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Terra like terracotta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yet again, if you're interested in chatting, I made a Discord Server!! Fr feel free to join, we have been having some amazing chats.<br/>https://discord.gg/WTtAgjYn52</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clay pulled away instantly, confusion crossing his face. He nodded. Did he think that you were just going to ignore everything that happened today? His fingers grazed your skin before he pulled away, turning and walking out of the room without a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You remembered the toast you had in the toaster, and shook yourself to snap back into reality. When you sat down at the table with your food, you found that you weren’t hungry anymore. You took a bite but pushed your plate away in frustration. It just didn’t seem appetizing anymore. Why was he making you feel like this? Why was he making it so hard?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t see Clay for the rest of the day, until dinner. Tonight was pizza night. You’d all planned to watch the third Harry Potter movie, but it seemed unlikely that that was going to happen tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You all sat around the table, silently eating. You still weren’t hungry, but you’d barely eaten at all. You kept your eyes down, mostly at your phone, flipping between a text conversation with your mother and Tetris as you nibbled on a slice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Clay was doing exactly what you’d asked him to do, you were still nearly shaking in your seat. You avoided eye contact, not once looking at him except to thank him for dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You holed up in your room, focusing on your classes. Hours later, you finished with your last final, turning your assignment in and closed all seven tabs that contained the research for the paper at last. You sighed a breath of relief and closed the laptop. You fell back on the bed, arms stretched out, eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>ping </span>
  </em>
  <span>made you look up. Your phone, across the room, was lit up. You squinted at it in the dark room, but didn’t make any effort to check it. It probably wasn’t important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know what time it was, but decided that it was time to finally sleep. Get him out of your head. Let all of the day’s problems roll away, and disappear for good. Your eyes drifted shut for good about an hour later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You woke up some time the next day, early in the morning. After your shower, you walked across the house in just your towel. The damn bathroom that you and George were sharing was nearly across the house, which you cursed at mentally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Passing through the living room, you felt your face heat up as you noticed Clay was sitting on the couch, watching something on the TV. He didn’t turn around, but his head cocked to one side, hearing your footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N?” He called out as you were almost out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your feet faltered in front of you, stopping on their own accord. Damn it. He needed to stop taking advantage of the fact that you would do exactly what he said, no questions. You turned around slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself a bit more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at him, you realized that someone was sitting next to him, which made you jump a bit, even more embarrassment covering your face. She was a teenager, maybe 14 or 15 years old, with dirty blonde hair, similar to Clay’s. She had a smirk on her face, sitting on the opposite couch, staring right at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” You babbled, face bright red to be caught in your towel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, this is my sister,” Clay said, still not looking over his shoulder at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Terra.” The girl said, smiling warmly at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(This is the only A/N I will include...we had a joke in the Discord chat that Clay’s siblings were also named after pottery things...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Terra like terracotta</span>
  </em>
  <span>…anyways, I will not be apologizing-I really didn’t want to leave her nameless or call her Drista...)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you!” You began, uncomfortably standing in the middle of the hallway in nothing but the towel. “I didn’t know you’d have family over today,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would’ve if you’d’ve seen my text,” Clay said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The text. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The text you’d seen light up your phone last night, but didn’t read. Of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m babysitting today,” Clay mused. “Because mom and dad went out, and after last time, we can’t leave Terra at home by herself anymore. So they dropped her off here.” You could hear the humor in his voice as he teased his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra glared at her brother. “I’m not half as bad as you were growing up, asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled. “You’re going to have to tell me some of those stories, later,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winked at you subtly, but Clay noticed and started screeching as you walked out of the room. You heard him telling her off but ignored the sibling banter and went to put actual clothes on. It reminded you of how you and George acted at home when you were both a few years younger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you went back to the living room in normal clothes, you saw Terra sitting by herself on her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” You greeted, taking a seat on the other couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re from Britain?” She asked, eyes attached to the device in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, I’m not exactly fond of Brits.” Her eyes flicked to you, amusement peeking through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’ve talked to TommyInnit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. This was the second time this week you'd heard of the child. You watched a video of his as a joke the day before and found yourself dying of laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you now?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra looked up, smiling. “So, Clay’s editing a video with George I think. Do you want to go to the mall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a few blocks away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, let’s go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra stood up, hopped over to the entrance to the house, and grabbed a pair of keys from the little bowl next to the door. She tossed them to you and you quirked an eyebrow at her, holding them awkwardly in your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head. “I’m not driving Clay’s car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you drive?” She snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged. “We don’t drive a whole lot in England. Also, I’ve never driven in America. I don’t think it would go well, especially in his fancy, expensive car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra took the keys from your hands and tossed them back in the bowl, saying, “I guess we can walk. It’s not that far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both walked out of the house together, entering the hot Florida fall. It was scorching and you didn’t understand how it could still be warm, this late in the year. Terra didn’t seem to be even slightly phased, and even wore a jacket. You followed her down the street, mostly observing the scenery around the neighborhood. It certainly was a wealthy area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra cleared her throat. “So...you wanna hear some stories about Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely, I do,” You laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s...a character. Probably the weirdest, but also funniest person I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra rolled her eyes, thinking back. “He was a bad kid. I don’t remember a lot of it, because I was young, but he was...definitely stubborn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stubborn, how?” You asked, putting your hands in your pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, just like, wouldn’t listen to our parents, never went to school, complained about everything. They told him to get a real job, that wasn’t Minecraft or YouTube, and he tried. He definitely did try, a couple years ago, but went back to YouTube almost immediately. Got really bored of it, really fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the cop story true?” You cocked an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra looked up at you, holding in a laugh. “Oh yeah, of course. Every time the cops have been called to our house, it’s because of Clay. He calls me the problem child, but it was definitely him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can definitely see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of you turned around a corner and you could already see the large building in the distance. Everything seemed to be very close, here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and Terra walking around the strip mall, doing some window shopping, exchanging stories about your brothers, and people watching. You stopped in a small burger joint attached to the outside of the mall and ate lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared at her curiously for a moment after sitting down in the booth. “So, why did you ask me to come out with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Terra started, chewing her food. “Firstly, I was bored. Second, Clay told me to ask you. He said you’ve been lonely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lonely? I don’t think that’s exactly the right word for it,” You mumbled before taking another bite of your burger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked back together, laughing the whole time. Terra was hilarious. She was the funniest teenager you’d ever met. Every story about Clay had you cracking up. At a few points, you had to stop walking completely so you could calm yourself enough to keep going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time you arrived at home, three hours had gone by. You were still laughing when you opened the door to Clay’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and then I proceeded to kill him, at least 5 or 6 times,” Terra said, recounting her first experience on stream with Tommy. She talked about him a lot, which you definitely teased her for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were about to respond, but you got interrupted by Clay walking down the stairs, stopping in front of you. He loomed over you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was it?” He asked, neither of you in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra answered before you could, walking back to the living room and throwing herself on the couch, saying, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s mouth dropped open, eyes flipping from you to her sister, and then back to you. “Did she just-did my fourteen year old sister just sass me with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>vine reference?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded in approval. “She did. I’m proud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” His eyebrows were furrowed in a cute confused face and he frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed, poking his cheek. “She’s a teenager; that’s how we are,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes and took the opportunity to spin you around, placing a hand on your lower back, pushing you toward the living room. You stumbled forward with Clay heavy on your heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stopped at the couch and he leaned forward, whispering quietly in your ear, “Thanks for hanging out with her today. She was going to get restless if she stayed here while I edited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked over your shoulder, connecting your eyes to his. He had a small smile on his face, the perfect portrait of innocence. But you knew that he was much more than that. He was a wave that was threatening to pull you under. And truthfully, you’d almost made that mistake yesterday. You managed to swim back to the sand, but the water continued trying to pull you in. His hand on your back was a drop of water. His devastatingly handsome face was a splash. The way his closeness made you feel was like you were sitting on a dock, waiting for the water to just pull you in, finally; suck you to the bottom of the ocean. You could swim back, but the further you were, the harder it got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stepped away from him, smiling tightly all the while. You watched his eyes examine your features, trying to determine how you felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” You said. “She was better company than I’ve had all weekend, anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped in fake-agony. “How dare you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, guys,” George said from the couch. You hadn’t even noticed him there. You and Clay turned to face him. It seemed like Clay hadn’t noticed him either. “Sapnap’s getting here tonight, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it Sunday?” You queried. “I thought he was coming on Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Change of plans,” Clay clapped. “I forgot to tell you guys...whoops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and George had identical faces of confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond smiled. “Instead of Tuesday to Saturday, he’s here today to next Monday.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Get. That. Dick.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It felt strange to be on the receiving end at the airport, waiting to pick someone up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You, Clay, George, and Terra were standing in the same place in the Orlando airport that Clay had been when he picked you and your brother up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, you weren’t too familiar with Nick, so when some normal-looking guy screamed at the top of his lungs from the security exit, you were a bit stunned. You’d stared at him for a moment, but your eyes went past him. He looked too...normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BOYS!” Nick shouted, dropping his suitcase and running to the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He embraced George and Clay at the same time in a giant hug. They held each other there for a whole minute, while you and Terra just rolled your eyes and laughed at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to deal with...</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>...for a whole week?” Terra asked, peering at you over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” You admitted. You were nervous. The tension between Clay and you continued from the house, to the car, to the awkward conversations that he tried to hold because he’s not good at sitting in silence, to the even more awkward questions that Terra asked (quite bluntly, might you add), to arriving at the airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was walking ahead, deep in a conversation with Terra about Tommy, while Clay stayed back with you. He tried to put an arm around your back as you complained about the last final you’d taken the night before, but he removed it when you gave him a dirty look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sapnap!” George exclaimed, pulling away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George! Dream!” Nick gasped. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>taller than you, idiot!” He said to George, who scoffed and lightly smacked his friend on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all chattering with excitement, but you reminded them not to stay for too long. Just in case. George and Nick were bound to get recognized after too long, so it was best to get going as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick grabbed his suitcase from where he had dropped it and you all walked out of the airport together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick held out a hand to you and you shook it, smiling widely at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a kind face. “Nice to meet you. You’re George’s sister, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I am,” You confirmed, dropping his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned closer to you, whispering conspiratorially at you, “Do you have any tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You asked, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any George-tea? Blackmail, anything? You know,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. “Let me get back to you on that, I’ll have to think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent a knowing glance back and cocked his head up. “Alright, alright. We’re bros now, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed at him. You could already tell that he was going to help ease the tension everyone felt regarding the whole you-and-Clay situation. Or at least be a distraction for both George and Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in Clay’s car, you were stuck in the back seat between George and Nick. George still wasn’t talking to you, and it was awkward with him trying to converse with Nick, who was across you. Terra was in the front seat in the midst of a conversation with her brother, exclaiming loudly about something related to her classes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s parents lived a few blocks away from him, so he dropped his sister off quickly before taking the rest of you home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay let Nick settle into the bedroom at the end of the hall between yours and George’s. He quite literally threw his stuff in the room and joined the boys and you back in the hallway, where Clay began the tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The downstairs, starting on the left side of the house, consisted of the three bedrooms in a ‘U’ formation in the hallway. Right outside of that hallway and in the center of the house was the living room, which was attached to the kitchen in an open-concept floor plan. On the opposite side of the bottom floor was the guest bathroom, the laundry room, and the entrance to the garage. Clay pointed at the staircase that led downstairs and told Nick about the theatre room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led Nick upstairs, showing him his bedroom, but specifically his personal gaming setup. Another room on the second floor that you hadn’t yet gone in was Clay’s filming room. It was completely covered in sound proof panels, and full of hardware and software used to make his videos and stream in most of the time. It was a small dark room, but big enough for the giant desk on one side, and a black leather couch on the other side that had a cream colored blanket thrown across it haphazardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led the group out and peeked into his little library, saying a few words about it. You bit your lip and stared at the ground, waiting just outside of the room. You couldn’t help but think about Clay pinning you against the bookcase yesterday, and your face flushed pink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay coughed awkwardly, staring right at you. “Okay, anyways, enough of this room,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, after the boys had done their stream, you were about to start making something to eat. Right before you texted Clay, complaining about the lack of food, he waltzed into the room with a smirk on his face. You raised an eyebrow, but continued to look at your phone, switching apps. You only looked up when your phone was pulled out of your hands and placed next to you on the table. Clay was in front of you, too close for comfort. Irritation nestled in your features, but his expression was soft. Too relaxed compared to the tension you felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wider frame seemed to pin you against the counter, about a foot away, and you began to panic. Your eyes followed his hands. They were always touching you; doing something to distract you from how you wanted to feel. He grabbed onto your forearms and you scowled. You closed your hands in loose fists, holding them away from Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “Can you at least pretend to stop liking me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you can stop putting your hands on me at every second of the day,” You countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down and seemed to notice for the first time that he was holding onto you. His already light grip loosened and he apologized sarcastically, “I’m sorry, is it distracting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re trying too hard to get me to react, Clay. It’s not happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lowered your arms and he dropped his arms to his own sides. Nick peeked around the corner and you turned to face out the window to your side, away from the boys. Clay took a small step back and smiled at Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” The blond asked casually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick flicked his eyes between you and Clay before laughing awkwardly, saying, “Nothing, just wondering when we’re eating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I was just asking Y/N about food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyebrows furrowed at Clay, but caught on. “Yeah, I was thinking Chinese food. You, Nick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything sounds good. Hell, I’d even go for McDonald’s right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You elbowed Clay, “Why don’t you go ask George what he wants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay chuckled and walked out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked out as well, heading toward the comfortable couch in the living room, followed by Nick. He sat next to you, facing you as you reached for the remote, turning the TV on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta know,” He started, leaning toward you. “What the hell is going on with you and Dream. Clay, I mean,” He stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you’ve only been here for like four days and it’s already awkward for like everyone. What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed out a breath, facing Nick. “George got mad at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it have to do with Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You paused. “We kissed.” Throwing your head back on the couch, you groaned, “And George might have walked in on us. And by ‘might have,’ I mean, he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick gasped dramatically. “No! Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I’ve been upset at Clay because he keeps pulling me in but I can’t be with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, you can’t be with him? That would be like a power couple. SisterNotFound dating DreamWasTaken? Sounds perfect,” He shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can convince George, maybe, but for now I don’t want anything to do with Clay. He’s just...so good at pushing my buttons. It started off with funny little texts, little teases, letting me borrow his sweater, etcetera. Now he’s invading my personal space and trying to kiss me and I keep telling him to knock it off, but he’s not listening to me. I don’t want to make George upset. He’s my brother and my best friend. I already hurt him enough by just kissing him, I don’t want to make it any worse for us. Especially since we have two and a half more weeks here.” You didn’t realize that you were rambling until you finished, seeing Nick’s face deep in contemplation, trying to process everything you’d just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you don’t want to be with Clay?” Nick asked. “Or you don’t want to piss off George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” You started, but paused, thinking about it. “I don’t want to piss off George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to be with Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck George, Y/N,” Nick said seriously, waving an arm around. “Go get your manz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick, no, I’m not going to do that until George-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Until George’ what? Gives you permission? Trust me, I’ve got two sisters, and neither of them need my permission to do shit. Especially when it comes to boys. I couldn’t care less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s his best friend…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three words, Y/N.” He held up three fingers in front of him, enunciating each word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Get. That. Dick.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. YOU LOOK LIKE TOMMYINNIT!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You took a moment to process what Nick had just said...</span>
  <em>
    <span>get that dick...</span>
  </em>
  <span>alright then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t exactly sure how to take that declaration. You adjusted in your seat and gave an uncomfortable smile at Nick. You...weren’t exactly ready for that. Yes, you’d kissed him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you enjoyed it, but that didn't mean you were about to put all of your cards on the table for him after literally knowing him for days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your face scrunched in apprehension. “I don’t think I want that, Nick,” You said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, if you want to be with him, then be with him. It’s not that hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>that hard!” You sighed. “I can’t hurt George.” It’d been too soon, and everything was messed up already. Off-limits? Yeah, right. Even Nick wanted you and Clay together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George says Chinese food sounds good,” Clay announced, entering the room. His face dropped into one of temporary concern when he saw Nick close to you, but fell into a tight smile just moments later. “I’m gonna order now,” He said, turning and walking back out of the room. You noticed the smile fall off his face before he was out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see that?” Nick whispered as soon as Clay was out of ear-shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He got jealous. Over me, just now.” He laughed out loud. “Oh, this is going to be a fun week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick!” You groaned. “Fuck. I don’t want anyone to get mad this week! I’ve already fucked up enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no. This is happening. This is totally happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled away from him and stood up from the couch. “Nuh uh. Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. It is,” He nodded, grinning like the motherfucker he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mocked back, “Y/N.” He was being a little shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pissing me off now,” You complained, falling back onto the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! If that’s what it takes to get it into your freakin’ head that you need to get it together, then that’s what I’m going to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, cutting you off. “Yes! You do! Stop whining and get your man, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You protested, pushing against him. “I’m not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, quit it. You probably can’t stop thinking about him. He’s on your mind constantly, isn’t he?” He asked, watching for a response. You scowled silently. “Aren’t you going crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” You growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you like him, right?” He asked. You just continued to glare. “I’m going to help you realize that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need a realization. I just need-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He interrupted you for what felt like the twentieth time. “You need to forget about George and just do that the hell you want to do for once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made you stop. Do what you want? When was the last time you did that? Well, probably when Clay kissed you in the library. Before that? You sighed. You couldn’t remember the last time you did what you wanted to do. Your face dropped. Nick noticed your deep thoughts that pulled you away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N? What are you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking that I’m an idiot,” You said bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick pulled you into him with one arm, giving you an awkward couch side-hug as he chuckled at you. “You are, but it’s okay. I guarantee that he’s even more of an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded. At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>you knew was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food arrived not too long after, and you were sitting at the table with George, Clay, and Nick. George was sat across from you, while the other boys were at each of your sides. George kept glancing at you, concern crossing his features. He was noticing the looks that Clay and Nick were sending you, and to be fair, you’d be pretty concerned as well. Clay kept sending eyes that pleaded for you to look back at him, which you refused. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, so you kept your eyes on either Nick or your food. Nick kept giggling at the tension you all created. He was clearly uncomfortable, but trying to make a joke out of everything. You felt bad. It was his little vacation too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything he said was directed at you or was about the situation. You couldn’t stop cringing into your takeout and cursing mentally. If this was how it was going to be for the next few weeks, you were about to get on the next plane out of Florida. You’d literally go anywhere at this point, just anywhere to get out of this fucking dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow’s Disney World,” Clay said, dropping his fork on his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised your eyes up to his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yeah, Disney. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was one place you were looking forward to most when you left England, but now you couldn’t imagine it being fun at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick cheered, but George had an almost equally as nervous look on his face as you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You decided to turn in early, knowing that tomorrow was going to be one of your longest days in Florida. You were looking forward to it, despite still being a bit nervous. Maybe everything would get better! Who knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were asleep surprisingly quickly, but your dreams were plagued with memories with Clay. You just couldn’t get him out of your head, conscious or unconscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you woke up, you were actually surprised that he wasn’t in bed with you. Your dreams had been so realistic. The last thing you could remember before your dreams slipped from your mind was cuddling under the covers with Clay, just holding one another. That one was odd...it was different from all the other dreams you had with him. They were usually just recounts of events that’d already happened...but this one wasn’t. It was brand new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, it was out of your head and you began to get ready for the day. You slipped on a pair of athletic shorts and a Disney shirt you’d picked up in the Orlando airport. It was red and white and had the Mickey Mouse logo on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you came out of your room, Nick laughed at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You asked defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU LOOK LIKE TOMMYINNIT!” He hunched forward, cackling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around and picked up the hairbrush from the dresser, throwing it at Nick’s head. He caught it, but looked surprised. “That is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>third </span>
  </em>
  <span>time this fucking week that someone’s mentioned Tommyinnit to me! What the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the shirt,” He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay and George entered the hall at the same time from your brother’s room. They both stopped when they saw you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit! Tommyinnit?” Clay laughed, clapping your shoulder and walking by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glared at the back of his head. “I swear to God, you two. If I hear one more Tommyinnit remark, I’m going to kill you all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay drove you all to Disney World, stopping at a fast food drive through to grab breakfast before arriving. Everything at Disney was expensive, so you were saving a couple bucks at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were...amazed, to be frank. Disney was wonderful. It was full of colorful buildings that made you feel like you were a part of a movie. The workers all had contagious smiles on their faces and the detailing made you fangirl over everything. From the smallest things to the biggest, everything was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick shouted, “FantasyLand! FantasyLand! FantasyLand!” until the group followed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked down Main Street, completely distracted by the smell of cotton candy from the confectionery. You stopped at one of the windows to the adorable shops, staring inside in awe. A trolly passed by, and the sound of the horses trotting down the street brought you back to reality. You turned around, but didn’t see the boys. You noticed the heads of both George and Nick up ahead, by themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand on your shoulder made you jump but you breathed a sigh of relief when you noticed that it was just Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe don’t get too distracted, okay?” He laughed. “We were about to leave without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled. “Umm, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>leave without us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay raised an eyebrow at the two ahead of you. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” It seemed to be that Nick and George got stopped by a couple teenage boys and their little sisters. You got close enough to listen, but stayed far enough away that they didn’t notice you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God!” One of the boys screamed. “GeorgeNotFound and Sapnap?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean Dream is here too?” The other one said, whipping his head back and forth, looking around the park for the blond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and Clay turned away from the group, trying to avoid the observation of the teenagers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, Dream ran off to Space Mountain a little bit ago to save our spot in line!” Nick said, leaning close to whisper to them, as if it was a big secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all gasped and ran in the direction of TomorrowLand, in hopes of being the first people to see Dream’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Similar to the shopping day on Friday, George and Nick stayed in front together while you and Clay walked a distance behind. Of course, you all had a good time regardless. The things you had to do when you were famous…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead was the castle, and you stopped in the middle of walking to stare at it. All of the boys were standing a few feet off, staring at it as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the castle!” You said, hitting Clay in excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay chuckled. “That is indeed the castle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the other people around the castle had walked away, you inched toward Clay, holding out your phone slightly in front of you. “Could you...take a picture of me in front of it? Please?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, and took your phone, taking a few steps back. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood in the center of the compass rose on the walkway, posing in front of it as he took the photos. You adjusted your hair and smiled brightly, pointing up at the castle with one hand. When you were done, George and Nick came up as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get a group photo!” George said excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pointed to the spot you were just standing, reaching for George’s phone. He pulled it away, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you have to be in it too, Y/N.” Your brother said, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick waved at the nearest person to the group, which was a girl about your age. She had dirty blonde hair that was in a ponytail, and was wearing a Disney t-shirt with Crocs. “Excuse me, could you take some pictures for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and grabbed the camera, pointing it at the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay was on the far left, next to Nick. Next to Nick was George, and you were on the right side. You all had your arms around each other, smiling at the girl taking the pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were the first person to notice how her face dropped into one of shock as she held up the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream?” She asked with wide eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, sorry about the wait for this chapter......<br/>I got engaged this weekend!!! Wow! That's crazy. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did! Leave a comment :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. You want me to leave?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first person to panic was you, surprisingly. Your mouth dropped open in an ‘O’ and you whipped your head to George.</p><p>George and Nick were both looking at Clay.</p><p>“Uhh...I…” Clay panicked, retracting his arm from Nick, taking a quick step toward the girl taking the photos.</p><p>As soon as he got up to her, she slapped a hand over her eyes, holding Nick’s phone out in front of her.</p><p>“I didn’t see you. I promise. Holy shit,” She sputtered out.</p><p>“Hey, it’s fine,” Clay said, chuckling nervously. “It happens,”</p><p>She shook her head, pushing the phone into Clay’s hands. “It is not fine. You haven’t done a face reveal yet. This is...illegal. I’m going to walk away now. Thank you. Have a good day. I love you.”</p><p>Clay stared at her in shock as she walked away, bumping back into her friends, still covering her eyes.</p><p>Luckily, she did actually take a few good pictures before she ran away, realizing who she was looking at.</p><p>“Holy fuck,” He said, joining the group again. Nick took back his phone, taking a peek at the photos. “I thought that those TikTok memes about fans pretending I don’t have a face was a joke. I guess not.”</p><p>“That makes...what? Four people that know what you look like?” George commented, laughing. “I think you’re doing fine. That was the absolute best-case scenario of someone recognizing you.”</p><p>You all chuckled nervously, already incredibly stressed out just from the one experience.</p><p>You all continued around the castle, making your way to FantasyLand, where Nick had requested to go first. The first thing you saw off the bridge was a giant carousel with flowers and bright green bushes surrounding it.</p><p>You followed around to the right and Nick dramatically halted.</p><p>“We get to meet the princesses…” He announced, turning toward the group.</p><p>“Which ones are in today?” Clay asked, squinting at the sign indicating the princesses on duty.</p><p>“It looks like…” George leaned forward, squinting as well.</p><p>“Rapunzel and Cinderella!” You shouted.</p><p>George and Nick hurried toward the line, but you and Clay weren’t as quick.</p><p>“Tangled is my favorite,” The blond said, smiling.</p><p>“Oh, you see yourself as the Flynn Rider type, then?” You asked.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Smart, brave, sarcastic. You know.”</p><p>“Are you saying that you don’t relate to him on the arrogant, thief slash criminal side?”</p><p>“I am not a criminal, nor am I a thief,” He gasped. “What is wrong with you?” He asked jokingly.</p><p>“So, you admit to being arrogant?” You quipped, following your brother. They were already in line.</p><p>“I-what? No! I am not arrogant,” He defended.</p><p>You raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“Y/N, if I was arrogant, I’d be all over you right now. However, I have this little thing called self-control-”</p><p>“Self-control?” You laughed. “You?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yes, actually. A lot of it.”</p><p>“That’s surprising to me.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes before joining the boys in line.</p><p>You met the princesses, whom all the boys fangirled over for a few minutes while you laughed at them. You had to convince yourself that Rapunzel wasn’t flirting with Clay, and was actually just doing her job and being nice. Then you had to convince yourself that you didn’t just get jealous...but that was harder somehow. You weren’t jealous. Not at all.</p><p>The next stops were the rides. Apparently Clay was afraid of heights. He refused to go on any of the rides.</p><p>“I’m just not really a roller coaster kind of person,” He insisted.</p><p>“Alright, pussy,” You shrugged, hopping in line with George and Nick. Clay stayed in line until you boarded the ride.</p><p>You rode several before George complained about being hungry. Clay chose the restaurant themed after Beauty and the Beast, which was an incredibly fancy cathedral-type building with the tallest ceiling you’d ever seen, blue ribbons cascading around the room, fancy dining tables, and beautiful golden chandeliers.</p><p>You sat next to Nick, while Clay and George sat next to each other.</p><p>Food came quickly and the boys started talking about the rest of their plans for the week.</p><p>“I’m thinking Universal Studios,” George suggested. “Harry Potter World and all. That’d be fun.” You nodded excitedly.</p><p>Nick picked his fork up, pointing it at Clay. “I honestly do not care where we go, as long as we hit the beach eventually.”</p><p>“I second that,” George agreed.</p><p>“Y/N?” Clay asked.</p><p>“Hmm?” You lifted your head from your plate.</p><p>“Where do you want to go while you’re here?” He responded.</p><p>Your eyes traveled back to the table, thinking. “Um, I guess Disney. But we’re already here.”</p><p>“Doesn’t count.” Clay laughed. “Pick a different place.”</p><p>“I don’t know. What else is there to do?”</p><p>Clay leaned back in his seat, contemplating. You stared at him as he did so. You didn’t know what it was about him; even sitting there in shorts and a tank top, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked unbelievably attractive, as he always did. His lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed in a pensive stare and you had to force your eyes in another direction to get yourself to stop looking at him like you wanted to snog him at the table.</p><p>Clay leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “I’ve been thinking about renting a hot air balloon-”</p><p>You interrupted, looking back at him curiously. “Didn’t you just say like an hour ago that you were afraid of heights?”</p><p>“Yes, I did, but I’d make an exception.” He smiled.</p><p>You pulled away, leaning back in your seat, a small pink blush crossing your face as you crossed your arms.</p><p>Nick gagged, putting his arm around the back of your seat. “Clay, please stop hitting on my woman.” You sent him an amused smirk and looked back at your brother, who was sending death rays with his eyes at both boys. You took another bite as Clay rolled his shoulders back.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Clay apologized jokingly. “For some reason, I thought that I had more priority than you because her tongue has been in my mouth.”</p><p>You coughed as the food got caught in your throat, right as you were swallowing. You couldn’t tell if your face was red from the embarrassment or from choking on your food.</p><p>Nick was holding back a laugh as he slapped your back. George looked furious. You’d never seen him look so pissed off. George had never been in a fight, of course, but he was probably one more comment from Clay away from decking him in the face.</p><p>“What the fuck, Clay?” You snapped, throat finally clear from any unlodged food.</p><p>Nick cringed. “I really did not need that image in my head.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” George mumbled under his breath.</p><p>The rest of the time at Disney was dictated by Clay’s statement. It was tense, and you could only blame the blond. It was his fault. He didn’t need to say that, but he did.</p><p>No one wanted to stay for much longer, and so you were all getting back into the car soon after.</p><p>Nick grabbed aux before Clay had the opportunity to and began playing extremely loud rap music, which you raised an eyebrow at. The boys all sang along at the top of their lungs as you watched on curiously.</p><p>Everything seemed to be fine between all of them, for now.</p><p>You sat down on the couch when you got back, tucking your legs under you and pulling out your phone to check the notifications. George sat on the opposite side of the couch, checking his own phone, and Nick was between you.</p><p>Clay was setting his things down in the kitchen, before he walked back into the living room.</p><p>“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you?”</p><p>Your eyes flicked to George, perhaps for permission. He just shrugged, staring down at his phone still. You stood up slowly, inching toward him at a microscopal speed. Clay rolled his eyes and left the room without you. You followed hesitantly. You heard his footsteps walking up the stairs and sighed softly, walking up as well.</p><p>He was facing the opposite wall of his bedroom, running his hands through his hair when you came in.</p><p>“You’re driving me crazy.” He sighed.</p><p>“How am-” You paused as he turned around.</p><p>Clay breathed out another sigh, and glanced up at you, making direct eye contact that made your spine straighten at just the mere look. He reached out for your hand. When you didn’t react, he grabbed the other one as well and stepped closer to you.</p><p>Anger-or maybe just annoyance-began to swell up in your throat. You pulled your hands out of his and shoved him, though with no real force. He stepped back, not out of balance, but out of surprise. He had an amused look growing on his face.</p><p>“Y/N, can I kiss you? Please?”</p><p><em> Well, since you said please- </em> “What?” You squeaked, pulling away from him. “No! What do you not understand about me <em> pushing you away?” </em></p><p>He pulled you in again. “Y/N.” He tipped his head down, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I said please,”</p><p>“I don’t care how you worded it-I said what I said. No.”</p><p>He dropped your grip, but didn’t move an inch. He was so close to you, he was nearly touching you. You were both just standing in the middle of his room, right in front of each other. He was breathing heavily and you realized that you were too. You pulled on the collar of your shirt lightly.</p><p>“Fine.” He said simply, raising an eyebrow at you. “Then leave.”</p><p>You glanced at him, and then at the door behind him. “You want me to leave?”</p><p>You couldn’t get a read on his expression. His face was set in stone. “No, of course not. But if I can’t convince you to stay, then you can just leave. I’m not going to make you stay here, so...just go.” He even nudged you a bit to get you going.</p><p>But you didn’t move. Didn’t you want to leave? Didn’t you want to escape the temptation that he was injecting you with at every moment that you stayed in his presence? Why weren’t you moving? Why weren’t you leaving?</p><p>“Go on,” He chuckled. “If you don’t want to be here, leave.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. I don't want either of you to leave.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your mouth dropped open to say something. Fucking <em> anything </em>. Hopefully sarcastic, knowing you. But, of course, the moment you needed your quick mouth the most, it stalled on you. You stood there, mouth slightly ajar, just staring at him.</p><p>“If you don’t leave, I can only assume that you <em> want </em>to be here,” Clay rolled his shoulders, taking a single step forward. “Right?”</p><p>Your foot went back instinctively, keeping the gap between you. Anything to keep the tiniest bit of sanity you still had that was preventing you from going off the deep end, into that swirling black ocean that you were terrified to jump into.</p><p>“You are making this...so fucking hard, Clay.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” He asked, taking another step forward.</p><p>You took another step back. At this rate he was going to back you into a corner. “I mean that<em> I want you, </em> idiot.”</p><p>“Then why the hell do you keep walking away?”</p><p>Your heels were the first to make contact against a hard surface. It was a box that was peeking out from underneath Clay’s bed.</p><p>“I told you,” You breathed out. “I’m not kissing you until we get the okay from George.”</p><p>“Do you…” He pursed his lips, eyes dropping from yours. “Do you think that I’m going to hurt you? Is that the real reason?”</p><p>You tipped your head to the side and shook it softly. “No.” He avoided your gaze, but you lifted your hand up and guided his chin up to look at you. You sighed. “It’s just George.” It was about time you’d admitted that to both him and yourself. Your resolve to avoid him was knocked down a while ago.</p><p>“What if I...what if I got permission from George?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You responded sarcastically. As if George was going to approve. “You can try.”</p><p>“Alright,” Clay smiled. “You’re on. I’m going to get his permission.”</p><p>You snorted. “Good luck with that.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>You plopped yourself onto his bed, lying down across the foot of it, an idea coming to your head. “Clay, how would you feel about your little sister dating Tommy?”</p><p>“I-” He furrowed his brows and closed his mouth. Clay sat down on the bed as well, on the opposite side. “Well, that wouldn’t happen.”</p><p>“Why not?” You mused.</p><p>“Because Tommy lives like a thousand miles away and he’s a streamer. She’s not into video games-”</p><p>“Clay, I live a thousand miles away <em> and </em> I’m not a streamer.”</p><p>He shook his head. “It’s a different situation completely.”</p><p>“It is the exact same situation. You wouldn’t let her be with Tommy,”</p><p>“Okay, maybe I wouldn’t be happy about it, but the thing is, Y/N,<em> I know him. </em> He’s a friend of mine. I’d trust him more than I’d trust a guy I don’t know. Also, I know he wouldn’t fucking cheat or anything because he’s a <em> Minecraft YouTuber.” </em>He laughed, leaning his head back, but sighed deeply. “That’s the thing. I thought George would trust me more because we’re friends.”</p><p>You stayed silent, watching him move. He was sitting, back against his bed rest. You turned your head to face him. You were still lying on your back, but when he patted the open space next to him, you scooted up and joined him without a word. You were both sitting, staring at the opposite wall.</p><p>After a dense minute of silence, Clay nudged you lightly with his shoulder and trailed his hand down to your upper thigh, stroking it with a gentle intensity. You looked up and he smiled oh-so softly at you.</p><p>“I have a question,” You asked, turning your eyes away from him, staring out of the window next to his bed. You didn’t want to look at him while you asked it. There was a palm tree a few blocks away that gently swayed in the light breeze, which you would be admiring, if not for the distracting hand Clay left on your leg.</p><p>“Shoot,”</p><p>Your hand drifted down unconsciously. You intended to move his hand away, but you found yourself grabbing it instead. “Do you…like me?”</p><p>“Of course I like you.” His voice was thick with confusion. That, or amusement. You couldn’t tell. “What do you mean?”</p><p>You hesitated before clarifying, “Do you like me or do you want to...be with me?”</p><p>Clay scoffed. “You think I just want to kiss you? You think that’s <em> all </em>I want from you? Y/N…” He pulled himself forward, turning to face you. With his free hand, he pulled your chin to face him. You stared up, dropping your head to the side to stare at his gorgeous face. “If you’d asked me that last week, I wouldn’t have known how to answer. But now...fuck. All I want is to be with you.”</p><p>He dropped your chin but you didn’t move.</p><p>“Y/N, I want to treat you right. I want to watch all of the Twilight movies with you and laugh at how bad they are. I want to cuddle with you every night and make fun of how you say ‘biscuits’ instead of ‘cookies,’ or ‘jumper’ instead of ‘sweater.’ I want to kiss you <em> right now </em> more than anything. I want to take you on dates and make you wear pretty dresses and buy you expensive food. I want to-I want to push you against every flat surface in this fucking house and kiss you until you can’t stand.” He laughed, but it died off as he softly whispered, “I want to be your boyfriend.”</p><p>You didn’t know what to say. You were still staring at him as he went on.</p><p>“I want to walk downstairs and find you cuddling with Patches. I want you to teach me how to cook because I don’t even know how to fucking make quesadillas. I want to be able to hold your hand whenever I want.” He pursed his lips together. “And I want to miss you when you go home. I don’t want either of you to leave.”</p><p>You had tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as he spoke. He was good at words, you knew that for a fact.</p><p>“Fucking hell, Clay.” You whispered, wiping the tears away quickly. “If you don’t get his permission, I’m going to go crazy.”</p><p>“Are you sure I need his permission?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, giving you puppy-dog eyes.</p><p>“If you ever want to kiss me again,” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Mother<em> fucker.” </em> He laughed, throwing his head back. “You drive a hard bargain.”</p><p>An hour later, you were lounging on the couch with Nick, your head in his lap as he scrolled through his phone. Occasionally, he would point his phone down to show you a meme, but other than that, there was no talking.</p><p>When you and Clay came down, George pulled him out of the room and back upstairs.</p><p>Upstairs, in Clay’s room, George pulled out a chalkboard from his closet.</p><p>“How did you even know that was in there?” Clay asked in impressed confusion, sitting back in the chair at his desk.</p><p>“I...I don’t know. I just knew.” George said, reaching in to grab a piece of chalk that was conveniently sitting on the floor. He began writing something across the board in big letters.</p><p>When Clay recognized what he was writing, he laughed out loud and began wheezing.</p><p>“George, I-”</p><p>“Nope. Don’t speak yet.” George scolded, finishing the sentence on the chalkboard. “Now, what does this say?”</p><p>“...Absolutely...100%...Completely...Not allowed,” Clay read off the board, not finished laughing yet. <em> “Oh, come on, </em> George.” He threw his head back, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Now where do we go from here?” The brunet asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head at the board.</p><p>Clay smirked and stood up, grabbing the eraser from George’s hand. He sauntered up to the board and erased one word.</p><p>“Clay! No!” George squealed, yanking the eraser out of his hand and writing, ‘not’ back on the chalkboard. “That is <em> not </em> what I meant.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The chalkboard scene was 100% inspired by a comment ChexMix left on like, chapter 6 or something xD one of the earlier ones. I had to include it- I was laughing my ass off when I read it. Thanks for reading y'all!!! ilysm</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Text '1' if you need help</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Bring something fancy?” You said to yourself as you paced back and forth in the guest bedroom you’d been inhabiting for the last several days. At dinner, Clay announced your plans for the next several days. Apparently, he thought that one day at the beach was not adequate. In fact, not two days, not even three days, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>four days</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the beach, leaving the next morning. You weren’t exactly sure what you were going to do for three nights and four days at a beach, but you just shrugged it off, knowing that he’d probably plan something stupidly expensive for the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing in particular that Clay talked about, was an extremely fancy dinner that he was planning. The boys would be in suits, and you guessed that he probably expected you to be in a dress too. You were quite excited to see him dressed up, though. Clay in a suit? Chef’s kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, you scurried off to your room to begin packing, starting with the dress. Why was he planning a big fancy dinner anyways? Did you even pack anything remotely...fancy? You dug through the dressers frantically, trying to remember everything you packed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, right before you lost all hope, your fingers touched something soft. Nearly satiny. You pulled it out, examining it, recognizing it as your favorite dress. It was a dark, pine green colored dress made of a velvety soft material. It had long sleeves, but they were cut down the back, making them open. The sleeves cuffed at the wrists and there were ties to wrap around the waist. You hadn’t remembered packing it. Maybe you knew in your subconscious that you’d need a dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You threw it on the bed and began packing the other things you’d need for the trip, starting with the formal apparel. Heels? You huffed out a breath and dug through the shoes you brought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, you actually brought a pair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You packed makeup, pajamas, shorts, tank tops, undergarments, and t-shirts. You stared at your pile, wondering what you were missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swimsuit!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gasped when you remembered that you were going to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>beach </span>
  </em>
  <span>and possibly needed something to actually wear when you were there. You reached into the drawer and pulled out the two you’d brought to Florida.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one was a two-piece white set that was cute...but definitely a bit showy. The second was a one-piece black swimsuit with straps around the waist that scaled the sides which were cut out, exposing some hip. You threw them in your bag as well, and zipped it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d left out a pair of leggings and Clay’s sweatshirt to travel in. You were thinking about wearing the Dream hoodie, but decided against it after remembering that people might recognize him. You had no choice but to wear the other one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After packing your bag, you walked across the house to the bathroom, in order to shower. Clay said that it was an almost two hour drive to the specific beach he wanted to spend the several days at, and you really wanted to be fresh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once you were washed and clean, you turned off the light and hopped in bed. It was only about 10 p.m., but the boys wanted to leave </span>
  <em>
    <span>early.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning, you were surprised by George with breakfast in bed. You ate quickly and got dressed in the comfy outfit you’d be wearing that day, not bothering to put a shirt on underneath the hoodie, and threw your hair up in a quick bun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rubbed your sleepy eyes as you ambled out into the living room with your bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was waiting on the arm of the couch, nearly asleep while sitting up. You nudged him with your elbow and he shook himself awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” He said drowsily. It was only 7 a.m..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay walked into the room, a backpack on one shoulder, with Nick trailing behind him looking particularly tired. Clay, on the other hand, was wide awake and annoyingly cheerful. All of you were glaring at how happy he was to be awake at this time in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning!” He smiled at the group, but no one responded. “Alright, so it’s about a two or so hour drive. Sometimes less, but we’ll see when we’re on the road. Should be pretty clear because it’s early,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two hours, stuck in a car with your brother and his chaotic best friends, in the middle of a frustrating feud? You were going to be lucky if all of you even made it to the beach. You wouldn’t be surprised if Clay let George out on the side of the road, halfway there. You chuckled to yourself as you thought about George hitchhiking to the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as you were on the road, it started surprisingly smoothly. Clay was driving, of course, with you in the passenger seat. You had to call shotgun and fight off a very angry Nick to get the front seat, but it was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick complained about his lack of sleep, but Clay countered by saying he had gotten none, staying up planning and writing a script for his next video.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of his enthusiastic dialogue about what Clay was writing last night, George fell asleep. This was only about ten minutes into the drive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listened to Clay rant on, focusing only on the sound of his voice as he drove across the Florida freeway. He always put on a voice when he was storytelling. He always sounded so excited whenever he spoke and you envied his ability to just keep talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick insisted on a food stop, saying he didn’t get enough to eat that morning. Clay pulled into the nearest drive-thru, which happened to be a McDonald’s. You just asked for a coffee and Nick got his second breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit later, right as you were taking a sip of your drink, you felt a hand on your thigh that made you jump, nearly spilling your coffee on yourself. You calmed a little when you remembered that it was just Clay, and that George was sleeping soundly in the back seat, but you couldn’t help the bit of anxiety that crept in, making itself at home in the pit of your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were glad that Clay was focused on the road, because the blush that crossed your face from the simplest display of affection would probably make him laugh at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides the music that was playing, the four of you were sitting in a comfortable silence. That was, until Nick shouted from the backseat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N!” Nick called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around quickly and flinched, seeing he was just inches away from you. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed you his phone, which was open to a blank contacts page. “Play iMessage games with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put in your number and grinned. “Of course,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You handed his phone back to him and pulled out your own, waiting for a game to pop up. He chose 8 Ball, and you laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a pro, by the way. Don’t cry when I beat you,” Nick said confidently, causing Clay to chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” You smiled. “I won’t be crying. I’m not sure that you can say the same, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You did your first play and sank two balls, sending it back to the streamer behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of your game, you got a confusing text.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nick:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>  I’m ready to punch him if you need me to</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     what?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nick:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     I see that hand</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span>     One word and he’s out</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>     Don’t even worry about it</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was talking about Clay’s hand on your leg. You rolled your eyes and glanced back at him. He was raising his eyebrows, as if waiting for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     i’m good, promise</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nick:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     One word and I’ll throw hands</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snickered, and saw Clay’s eyes glance over to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, tone suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just playing 8 Ball,” You responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re laughing. What are you laughing about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s laughing at me because I’m the funniest person she knows,” Nick cut in, laughing while smacking Clay lightly on top of his head from his seat behind him. “Don’t be jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not jealous,” He insisted, “I just don’t see what can be so funny about 8 Ball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sounds jealous to me, Clay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought as you adjusted yourself in your seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you’re being a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me,” Nick quipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut the hell up, Sap-Nick. Fuck. Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You found yourself laughing out loud at Clay stumbling over his words. It was always amusing when they’d accidentally use their screen names in person, or their real names on stream.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nick:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Text ‘1’ if you need help</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glanced down at the hand that was still resting on your thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     dw it’s all good up here</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent back the vomiting emoji and then sent the 8 Ball game back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You played on, putting balls in holes, as one does, until Nick rage quit after losing three times in a row. After you noticed that Nick wasn’t responding, you set your phone down and leaned over, resting against the side of the car. You were getting sleepy all of a sudden, the lack of sleep from the last couple days catching up to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t notice, but in your near-slumber, you grabbed Clay’s hand, grasping it in your own. Just as your eyes drifted closed, after about ten minutes of silence, you heard Nick’s voice, right before you fell asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Y/N awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think she fell asleep a few minutes ago.” Clay responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you just...ask her out already?” Nick asked exasperatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m waiting for the yes.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of a loud car horn woke you up. You jumped in your seat, hitting your head on the door frame as you did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” You said, blinking until your vision was clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops, sorry,” Clay winced. “Someone cut me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as you could see properly, you noticed that you were on a bridge, going over bright blue water. Your face was pressed up against the glass window, staring out. Boats sailed by, under and around the bridge as you passed over it. You’d never seen something as beautiful as an American beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s voice from behind you told you that he had woken up. You panicked for a moment, and looked down quickly at Clay’s hand. It wasn’t on your leg anymore. It was back on the steering wheel. You sighed a breath of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re almost there?” George asked. He was wide awake, and it seemed like Nick was too, although you could tell that he took a little nap as well. You noticed his hair was stuck up on one side, but he brushed it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Clay nodded, turning on his blinker and merging off the freeway at last. “We’re hitting the beach first, cause check-in’s at four. We have, like, hours, so...beach!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight in front of you was lovely. White beaches and bright blue water, unlike anything you’d ever seen before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay pulled up to a parking lot, nearest the beach, and parked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearwater Beach, baby!” Clay shouted as he opened his door. He got out and walked around to the back, opening the trunk of his car. Inside were four beach chairs and a stack of towels. He grabbed one towel for himself, along with a chair, and began hiking out to the large blue things lined across the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed your beach bag, that contained your swimsuits, and got out of the car as well. All of you grabbed one chair and towel each and followed in the suit of Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you got closer to the blue objects, you soon were able to identify them. They were tents! But they were small, with only enough shade to cover two people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You seated yourself under one, setting the folding chair out. You peaked around, wondering which of the boys would join you under the blue tent. You looked into the tent next to you to see all three boys squeezing their chairs under one of the blue tents and began laughing out loud. They did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>all fit, either, but they tried their best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they were situated, Nick came over. “Beach time, gotta change,” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you up and out of your seat a couple feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You made a noise of disagreement and tried to pull away, back into your tent, but you ended up backing into something sturdy-something tall and definitely not tent-like. Then you felt hands on your forearms. Yeah, that’s definitely not a tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beach time,” Clay repeated, running his hands up and down your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stepped out of his grasp and gave him a quick smile. You grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where to?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked through the sand, feet heavy, with the accompaniment of the three boys, toward a changing room of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared down at your options, contemplating which suit to choose. You suddenly regretted only bringing two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes later, you ended up peeking out of the changing room in the white strapless bikini, eyes flicking back and forth. The second you were out of the room, you turned around to go back in to change into the other one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right before you reached the door to go back in, you heard a voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N?” It was Clay. You turned around slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” You breathed, avoiding his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...realized that I don’t want to wear...this bathing suit...anymore…” You mumbled, pulling your arms in to cover yourself a bit. “I was going to change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look great, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked down. You...did look good. In fact, you looked fuckin’ fantastic. You guessed you weren’t changing anymore. Which was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed. “You know what? Nevermind, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tipped his head to one side and admired you openly. You took a moment to do the same thing. Motherfucker, why did he have to be so hot? You sighed out a breath and turned away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like beaches?” Clay asked, following you as you paced back to the tents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded. “I do. This one is...different than the ones I’ve been to, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beaches are different in the U.K.?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. “Quite different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s different about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like every beach here is for sunbathing or surfing. Most, or at least, some, are still preserved in Britain. They’re gorgeous. Not saying this beach isn’t fantastic, because it is, but…” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Britain is superior, in every way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you having the time of your life, here?” He asked, nudging you with an elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked out at the beach, remembering that he was threatening to pull you into the water. You didn’t want to sink, but if you were being honest, you’d been floating out there at sea for a while now. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he hadn’t pulled you under the second his lips touched yours, a few days ago. You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>gone now. You were living amongst the coral and the crabs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waves hit the shore in soft ripples. You didn’t realize it, but you’d stopped walking when he asked you his question. He was waiting, a short distance away, just watching as you stared out at the rolling water. You glanced back at him and smiled a silent apology, continuing your walk back to the tents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a great time, thanks for asking,” You said, turning your head back to the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set your bag down at your folding chair in the tent you had claimed and pulled the shade back, exposing you to the sun, and sat down, stretching out. You grabbed your sunglasses and put them on top of your head and pulled out the sunscreen from your bag as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After thoroughly applying it, you leaned back and began to relax at last. You weren’t sure what the boys were up to, and honestly, you didn’t care. You wanted to have some time to themselves, some Y/N-less time, and actually enjoy each other’s company while they were together. Plus, you needed some time alone as well. God knows, the only alone time you got now was when you were sleeping. You were about to go crazy. The excess amount of testosterone oozing from them made you want to barf a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your freedom allowed you to look around, at last. Clearwater Beach was large, and unlikely anything you’d ever seen. There was a pier going along the water, to your right. The tents lined the beach for at least a mile, and with each coming minute, more beach dwellers were arriving. Down by the pier, there were a ton of activities. You saw everything from volleyball nets to a giant inflatable slide that must’ve been a hundred feet long. There were people fishing off the end of the pier, and by the other end, there was a playground with kids running all around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were enjoying the friendly ambiance of being alone at the beach, that was, until you were interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, you thought it was Clay. He was always surprising you when you least expected it. But, this person wasn't blond. You couldn’t see very clearly, because they were standing directly in front of the sun, but you knew it wasn’t Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t appear to be the lanky form of your brother either, as you squinted up at them. From the voice alone, you knew it wasn’t anyone you’d traveled with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s up?” The stranger asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were still squinting up, and it didn’t help when they moved out of the light, causing the sun to practically blind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” You responded skeptically, eyebrows furrowed. You were usually a social person, but you weren’t feeling particularly secure at the moment. You could see the boys down by the water, messing about, not paying you any mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger in front of you was probably a couple years younger than you, but quite cute for an American. He had an angled jaw and curly brown hair, with quite a nice tan. He looked like the kind of guy who was on the beach a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you here with anyone?” He asked, squatting near your chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled away, smiling uncomfortably. “I am, yeah. My brother and his friends.” You tilted your head over toward the three boys, who were already making fools of themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, nice. How long are you here for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A couple days. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re obviously not from around here. I would’ve recognized you. Also, you have an accent, so that was a giveaway.” He smiled charmingly. “Listen, if you’re interested, I could show you around? Clearwater doesn’t seem like much, but I can show you how beautiful it can be. It’s much better with a tour guide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes under your sunglasses and tipped your head toward him. “I’ve got a tour guide, but thanks for the offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable,” He said, but still didn’t move. You were starting to get annoyed. He didn’t even know your name, and he was much too close to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind,” You started. “I’m going to go back to my lounging now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” He said, getting the hint finally. “No problem. Enjoy it here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away, making his way back to whatever direction he came from. You looked out at the beach and noticed a certain blond’s eyes on you, head cocked to one side, gaze intent on staring you down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head at him, motioning that nothing was wrong, and lay back down in your chair. It’d been only ten minutes and you realized that not only did you have to worry about Clay, but also all of the other men on the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another several minutes went by before you got approached by another one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This one wasn’t as nice as the first one, though, and was trying to hassle you to come with him somewhere. You insisted that you were fine where you were, but he wasn’t taking it easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled out your phone, glancing sharply at the man before rereading the last text you’d been sent.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nick:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Text ‘1’ if you need help</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a joke at the time, teasing you about how far you were letting Clay push your boundaries, but at this time, you felt like you really did need help.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     hey...1</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>     weird guys keep bothering me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t even sure if Nick would see it, but you were hoping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new guy was blond with an attractive face as well. Was that how they got away with it? Because they were cute?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” The random guy asked once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed and sat up in your chair, ready to shout at him.</span>
  <em>
    <span> No shit, I’m sure-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s sure,” Someone said from behind the creep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Rock time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“She’s sure,” Nick said, walking up to you with probably more confidence than he actually had.</p><p>The guy laughed it off, but you could see the nervous look in his eye as he got up and finally left you alone.</p><p>“It’s because you’re hot,” Nick chastised. “And also an idiot who doesn’t know how to say no to anyone.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” You said, glaring in the direction the boy walked off in. “You can go back to the boys now, if you want.” You gestured to Clay and George. They were walking along the water, and just seemed to be chatting.</p><p>“I’m...I’m good. It’s been awkward for all of us. They need to talk it out before they finally get past their shit.” Nick ran a hand through his hair, watching as the two in the distance paced around in the sand.</p><p>“It’s all my fault,” You sighed. “I told George I shouldn’t come on the trip, but he begged me. I can’t say no to him, either, so here I am.”</p><p>“I know you’re upset to hurt him and all, but this trip hasn’t been all bad things. You met me,” He gave you a friendly wink. “Also, Clay, I guess. Whatever. He’s not important.”</p><p>Nick had some strange ability to calm your nerves, no matter how you felt. He was a bit immature, but he was also young. What he lacked in maturity, he made up in charisma and comebacks.</p><p>“Then you can hang out with me.” You said, scooting your chair over to make room for him. “I’m lonely.”</p><p>“Who am I to deny the request of a pretty lady?” Nick winked, grabbing his own chair from the tent over.</p><p>“Clay will beat the shit out of you if you keep that up,” You teased and moved to pull the tent back up, covering it from the sun again.</p><p>“If he tries to fight me, I probably deserve it.” Nick stretched his legs out, sitting down under your tent. “But he’s smart. And he may still be an idiot, but at least he respects some boundaries.”</p><p>“Yeah,” You laughed. “Some.”</p><p>You sat with Nick for a while. He told you some stories about Clay, and you told him some about George. You felt like you and Nick were best friends, bonded by the tension between George and Clay.</p><p>You dropped your hand to the sand below you and you ran your fingers through it. It was surprisingly soft. You didn’t know sand could be soft like this. You continued to just rake your fingers through it as you chatted with Nick, until your fingers caught on something. It was a rock. It was dark gray with white lines going in many directions across its surface. Your thumb caressed it, and a thought popped into your head.</p><p>You needed to get George.</p><p>You hopped out of your seat, leaving Nick behind, and hurried down the beach.</p><p>“What are you doing?” George said as you grabbed his arm, pulling him along the beach.</p><p>“Rocks.” You said simply.</p><p>“Are you-really?” George sighed. “Right now?”</p><p>“If not now, then when?” You countered, pouting. “We have to.”</p><p>Nick had caught up finally, and was looking back and forth between you and your brother in confusion. Clay was standing there, confused as well.</p><p>“It’s, uhh...it’s rock time,” George explained to the boys, a hesitant expression on his face.</p><p>“Rock time?” Clay asked, shifting his weight to one leg.</p><p>“I’m going this way,” You said as you began walking down the beach to the right side.</p><p>George shrugged and left Clay and Nick, walking in the other direction. You were too distracted by your search to see where they went after you ran off.</p><p>You were kneeling over a particularly rocky area of the beach, a couple hundred feet from the nearest beach dweller. Clay had apparently followed you, sitting down, watching as you examined the rocks in front of you.</p><p>“What’s so important about some rocks?” Clay asked, peering curiously at you as you dug through the pile in the sand.</p><p>You weren’t looking for one in particular, just waiting for one to stick out at you.</p><p>“Listen,” You began, eyes flicking back and forth as you ranted. “Stones and rocks have a lot of historical symbolism. Some cultures see them as luck, or energy, or long life, or whatever. There’s a surplus of meanings. You can pick and choose which one you believe, but the thing that we’ve always lived by...is you can give someone a stone and it will tell them exactly how you feel. The size...the texture...the color and shape...they all mean something. My family’s done this for years. It doesn’t have to make sense. You can get any interpretation out of a rock, so it’s almost pointless. But it’s a tradition, so we still do it.” You were staring at the rocks you’d collected, passing them back and forth between your hands.</p><p>You shifted all of them over to one hand, except one. It was a rough piece of black stone that had little white patches. You took Clay’s hand, placing the rock in his palm. It was for him.</p><p>He brought it closer to his face, examining it closely. “So, what does this one mean?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure it’s a piece of snowflake obsidian.”</p><p>“Obsidian?”</p><p>“Volcanic rock-”</p><p>“I know what obsidian is, Y/N. What does it mean? What are you trying to tell me with it? Why this one?”</p><p>You stared down at the rock you’d given him, trying to think of the words to string together to explain to him-to let him fathom even a fraction of how you were feeling.</p><p>“Obsidian can mean a few things. A lot of things, actually. It’s a protective stone. It can draw out stress or negative energies. It clears…” You glanced up, seeing his green eyes pierce into yours. “...Confusion,” You murmured.</p><p>“Do you think I’m confused, Y/N?” He asked softly.</p><p>“Well, normal black obsidian helps with self-control, as well. Snowflake is a bit different. It-uhh, I’m blanking a bit.” You were too distracted by his face. You shook yourself mentally and focused on the stone he was holding. “It’s a purification stone. Also, it improves circulation and helps with muscle aches.”</p><p>Clay chuckled. “Oh, it’s perfect, then.” He pocketed it and shot you a smile that made you stumble. “Thank you,” He said. “I’ll cherish it forever.”</p><p>“You better. I picked it out just for you.” You smiled and went back to the rocks on the sand. You needed a few more, and this beach was full of interesting and colorful ones. Some that you’d never seen before, but you could identify most of them.</p><p>“Why do you know so much about rocks?” Clay asked after a few moments of your rummaging.</p><p>You picked up one. It was small and bumpy, and almost cubical. It was dark red, almost brown, with some pink spots on it. If George was able to recognize it, he’d know what you meant. It was rhodonite-or at least, it looked like rhodonite; an emotional balancer. You were sure he’d understand. Every time you got in a fight when you were kids, you’d bring him the same type of red rock at the end of the argument. Of course, he couldn’t really see red, but it was the thought that counts. After enough of them, he would easily recognize it. But...that was a long time ago. It’d been years since the last time you’d given your brother a rock.</p><p>“Well, I said earlier that it was a tradition in our family. We used rocks to, basically, express how we were feeling. A smoother rock meant we were happier. The bigger the rock, the more love there was. Of course, it all depends on the situation. It’s not always the same. Eventually, I learned about the benefits of different stones or crystals. I wasn’t obsessed or anything, I just learned a lot about the meanings for fun.”</p><p>By the end of your speech, you’d picked up a black and orange speckled rock. It had some ridges, but it was mostly smooth. You tossed it up in your hand and caught it. Perfect.</p><p>You led Clay back to the tents and sat down in your beach chair. He was staring down at the piece of obsidian you’d picked out for him with deep curiosity. You were shocked at the variety at this beach. You managed to find something perfect for everyone.</p><p>Nick approached, holding a round flat skipping stone about the size of his palm. It was gray and thin. He didn’t exactly know what to do with it, it seemed. He was just carrying it awkwardly. It was probably the one gifted to him by your brother. You smiled at him and gave him the speckled rock you’d found.</p><p>George silently passed one stone to Clay, and one to you, and sat down. The one he gave to Clay was brown on the outside, and a speck of dirty blue peeking out from the inside that was barely noticeable. You recognized it as some sort of agate. They were common enough, but the interesting part was the color. Blue usually meant forgiveness or self-acceptance. You looked up at George in shock, but he was looking away, at the ocean. That couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it?</p><p>The one he handed to you needed a bit more contemplation. It was a small, jade colored stone. It was completely smooth, except a few jagged scars along it. It was typical in beach rocks to get a bit damaged along the way, but you couldn’t help but overthink about the connotations.</p><p>“George,” You said. He turned around right as you tossed him the small black and red rock you’d obtained for him.</p><p>He caught it easily and paused immediately. It didn’t look exactly like the rocks back home, but you could tell that he recognized it. His eyebrows furrowed and he stared down, observing it. It was small, maybe the size of a dollar coin.</p><p>“You found rhodonite?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Don't step in the kitchen if you can't handle the heat, baby.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I did. I’m not sure if it’s actually rhodonite, but it looks similar,” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact. You stared at the rock in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was speechless. His eyes crinkled in understanding and contemplation. He looked back up at you, and you knew that he was sorry. Sorry for how he acted, and sorry for how he’d been treating both you and Clay. It was supposed to be a fun trip, and you realized that now, it still could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” He mumbled. George put the rock in the bag he brought and gave you a tight smile in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded back and rolled the jade colored rock he’d given you between your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay cut through the thick silence. “It’s like, noon. Is anyone hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am!” Nick yelled, also very clearly uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frenchy’s it is,” Clay said, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You all packed your things, threw Clay’s sweatshirt and a pair of shorts on over your swimsuit, and headed off the beach. Apparently, Frenchy’s was a local restaurant that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>popular. There were several locations, just in Clearwater, but Clay chose the one within walking distance of the beach. It was only a few blocks away, basically just across the street from where you’d been at the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright blue building was as inviting on the outside as it was on the inside. It was completely beach themed, with colorful seats and booths, painted fish murals on the walls, and a banister shaped like fish that were painted in all of the primary colors. It was an adorable little restaurant that had a bunch of seafood options, not surprisingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ordered and sat in a blue booth with the boys, waiting for your food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, rocks, man.” Nick laughed, leaning back. He was sitting next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rocks,” George confirmed, nodding his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George finally explained the significance behind the stones to Nick, because he’d wordlessly dragged him across the beach, searching for the rocks. He didn’t once explain why he was doing it, or what they were for. Nick just followed along and accepted his rocks willingly, though a bit confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While that was going on, your thoughts were still stuck on Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt similarly to how you felt at Disney, when you were all at lunch. You were sitting in the same seating chart now as you were when you were at the extremely fancy restaurant in Orlando. Of course, Clay had made that lunch incredibly awkward, after saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“For some reason, I thought that I had more priority than you because her tongue has been in my mouth.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> You couldn’t stop cringing the entire day after he said that. What the hell had possessed him to say that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He...said and did some things, sometimes, that didn’t sit properly with you. Of course, it was all out of affection. He held you, got a little too close, said some interesting things that you really wished he hadn’t said, *cough* </span>
  <em>
    <span>Disney World,</span>
  </em>
  <span> *cough*, but he never did it with the intention of making you uncomfortable. Clay did it to show affection, which you understood. You’d just wished he’d have listened to you when you asked him to back off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, with the whole rock situation, you had no idea where Clay and George were at. Both you and George needed to talk to him. You just wanted...some clarification. He told you he wanted a lot of things, but the most important one was that he wanted to be your boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, it was really soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What day was it? Tuesday?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d only arrived six days ago. It’d only been five days since your first kiss. Four days since your last kiss. Less than twenty-four hours since he said he wanted to be your boyfriend. It was fast...maybe, too fast?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were brought back to reality when Clay sat back down, all of the food on a tray. He handed you your meal and you smiled softly in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ate, again in silence, as the boys talked. You felt like everything had been focused on yourself for too long. It was time to give the boys some time. However, every one of them tried to include you in the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed like, as much as you were trying to allow them time to chat with each other, they were trying to include you so you didn’t feel left out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, you were fine with being left out. It was their trip, and the fact that all of them had been involving you so much was stressing you out more than you could admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N?” George said, waving his hand in front of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blinked up at him after completely ignoring their entire previous conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you listening?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pursed your lips and shook your head slowly. “Umm, no. I wasn’t,” You admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick clapped, rubbing his hands together. “We’re walking down the pier, and then going to the hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” You said, still not interested in the conversation. They went back to their conversation and you sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were pulling on the strings of Clay’s sweatshirt, the one you were wearing, that is, wrapping them around your fingers, when Clay’s eyes caught yours. He quirked his eyebrows quickly at you, a concerned gaze casting over you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you okay?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded your head, ever-so-subtly, just for him to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded in response and turned his head back to the boys, continuing the conversation casually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You appreciated his little check-in, though you were surprised he noticed your change in demeanor so quickly. Even George was oblivious to the sudden melancholy that had taken over you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were still deep in thought until your foot got bumped, under the table. You peeked under and saw it was Clay’s foot that bumped you. You looked up and shot him a fake-annoyed glance. He smiled, biting his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bumped him back and rolled your eyes. This went on for about a minute until you were interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick cleared his throat after a moment and you and Clay both looked at him, heads turning at the exact same time, caught in the act.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Clay chirped, focusing back on the boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick and George laughed at the obvious distraction that was consuming Clay. “Nevermind, man,” Nick giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t seem to mind this time that Clay was flirting. Who was he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what is it?” Clay demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” George laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick shook his head, “It’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not. What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just…” George pulled a few inches away from Clay. “...a bit distracted recently. And it’s funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny, is it?” Clay asked, a smirk growing on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could tell he wanted to say something snarky back, but he hesitated. It was probably going to be something extremely sarcastic. Probably something that would’ve embarrassed you. His eyes flicked over to you, but you shook your head at him. “Anyways,” He moved on, “Are we going anywhere tonight or do we just want to relax in the hotel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relaxing sounds good.” Nick said. “I was promised cuddles, by the way. Haven’t gotten any yet.” He looked around the group, eyes stopping at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes flickered from him, to George, to Clay. “Nuh uh.” You shook your head. “You have the boys for that. Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick gagged. “Oh, hell no. I wasn’t talking about you. Don’t worry,” He grabbed onto George’s hand with one hand, and Clay’s with the other. “It’s a boys night, Y/N. You’re not invited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gasped. “Excuse me? Bitch?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not invited? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Who does he think he is?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot you an amused look, dropping the boys’ hands. “Is there a problem, Y/N?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You’re being mean to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t step in the kitchen if you can’t handle the heat, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>just call me baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>19, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU ARE 20!” He shouted back. At this point, half of the restaurant was staring at your booth. You were glaring at the boy next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kids,” George interrupted, looking a bit worried. “You’re both pretty, stop fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He started it,” You complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick shouldered you. “You’ve got no comeback game. You’re just like your brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled in response. “Don’t insult me like that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being mean to George,” Clay said, reaching across the table, grabbing your forearm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Your mouth snapped shut, focused only on the hand touching you. You pulled away, brain doing a system-reset. You snapped back, “He’s my brother, I’m the only one who’s allowed to be mean to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay just rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back, accepting defeat.</span>
  <em>
    <span> That’s a first.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>All of you were done eating by now, and meandered your way out of the restaurant. You headed back to the beach, making your way toward the pier. Tall palm trees surrounded you, which amazed you. You walked a few feet behind them, watching as they laughed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were several bands setting up along the coast, pulling out guitars and pianos and microphones, preparing for sunset. There were buskers animatedly doing their little shows. One with a guitar winked at you and you winked back jokingly, laughing along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched along the beach, as teenagers played volleyball in the sand. Your mind whirred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” He turned around, a smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you guys not worried about people recognizing you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, shaking his head. “They’re...Minecraft YouTuber fans...they’re not going to be outside, especially not on the beach. I’m not worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged. Fair enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a gift shop, of course, with cute little trinkets and souvenirs, at the base of the pier. You walked in and out, continuing down the pier. There was a man playing the saxophone on your right, wearing the coolest pair of leopard print pants you’d ever seen. Below, in the water, were children swimming and screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, the pier was pretty vacant, besides the little jewelers and artists set up nearer to the shore with rainbow tents covering their goods, the randoms relaxing on the benches, and people taking photos in front of the multitude of dolphin shaped statues. There was a single building at the end of the pier, but you didn’t know what it was for. It didn’t look open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around, looking back at the shore. It was a beautiful day, perfect for the beach. The sun was hot on your cheeks as you clutched at the rail, looking around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay approached, leaning against the rail next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded your head in appreciation. Life seemed so different here. So peaceful. So lovely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s brilliant. Honestly.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next couple chapters are plot heavy....woohoo!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. You can't even beat Technoblade,</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As expected, the hotel was gorgeous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valet parking, giant chandeliers, beautiful artwork, and massive double staircases that led upstairs. They even brought your luggage up to your room for you. You arrived about an hour before check-in, but the room was ready for you, so you were allowed up as soon as you got there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, inside the suite was even better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked through the door, into a living room. You’d never seen a living room inside of a hotel room before, so that was new. There were mirrors on nearly every wall, which you found lovely. The room was beach themed, obviously, but it was subtle enough that it worked. It also had a mini kitchen and a couch with a television.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The far wall was completely window, covered by turquoise curtains, which led out to a balcony. Every room in the hotel had a private balcony that overlooked the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connected to the living room by a small hallway, were two doors. One was a master bedroom with one king sized bed and a private bathroom, and the other room had two queen sized beds and a pull-out bed in a couch as well as their own bathroom. Both of the bedrooms had balcony access.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You went out on the balcony and looked down. It was a long ways down, being on the top floor. Below, on the ground level, was a giant pool and a hot tub that sat next to what looked like a sand-bar. As much as you enjoyed the beach, the pool called for you. You went back inside and saw the boys all putting their things in the second room, with the queen sized beds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick carried your large bag to the master bedroom, and set it on the king sized bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrowed your brows at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t Clay get the fancy room because he’s paying for all of this?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The boys get our own room.” Nick said, walking past you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no offence, Y/N, but we’re having a sleepover.” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, are you going to push the beds together and spoon?” You teased, leaning against the door frame of their shared room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick looked over at George, who shrugged at Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t need to push the beds together. We can all fit on one,” Clay nodded, in all seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right as they were all jumping on one of the beds together, you rolled your eyes and walked out. You were in your room before the giggling started, which was loud enough for you to hear, even with the door shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared at yourself in the mirror. You were still wearing Clay’s sweatshirt. You looked good in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed at your reflection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since you were going to be in for the rest of the night, you decided to change out of the swimsuit you had on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You kept on his hoodie, because frankly, it was comfortable. Along with the hoodie, you put on a comfortable pair of pajama shorts to lounge in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had achieved the ultimate comfy; lying on the couch, Clay’s sweatshirt halfway down your legs, a knit blanket covering you as you completely sprawled across it horizontally. You were flipping through the basic cable channels when you were joined eventually. You were about to settle on Animal Planet, but George grabbed the remote out of your hand, despite your protest, and Clay swung your legs off the couch so you were sitting up instead of lying down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t decide who to glare at, but your eyes settled on Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up.” Clay responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared at him in annoyance. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his eyebrows. “Get up before I pick you up and move you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t.” You taunted. You knew that he would, but you felt like testing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up,” He repeated. His voice was calm, and if you were being honest, it intimidated you a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grudgingly stood up, off the couch, not willing to tempt him too much today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay proceeded to turn the living room couch into an extra bed, although it wasn’t needed, as there were already four other ones in the bedrooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick ran out of the bedroom and immediately jumped in the middle of the pull-out bed. George quickly joined him, and pulled up the third Harry Potter movie. You’d forgotten that you were even watching Harry Potter a few days ago. To be fair, during the first two, you’d been much too distracted by Clay to even watch the films.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were about to sit back down, on the bed this time, but Nick held his hand out to stop you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” He said. “Not. Invited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to be cuddled?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well...not by George or Nick…</span>
  </em>
  <span>“No.” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bed is for us. You can take the chair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked from Nick to the chair. It looked comfy enough, but you weren’t happy about the banishment. You huffed and grabbed the blanket. You wrapped yourself up and sank down into it, still glaring at the boys, who were immediately cuddled up to one another on the pull-out bed, completely ignoring you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your glare faded when the movie began, and you became entranced quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toward the end of the film, you had to get up to close the curtains because the sun was beginning to go down. It was right in line with your fifteenth floor view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The movie ended, and you were already tired. It wasn’t even that late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t feel that bad for being tired, though, because your brother was yawning too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick and Clay were deep in some conspiracy about werewolves while you were checking your phone, laughing at a text conversation with your mother. She was very invested in whether or not you and Clay were dating yet. You had to disappoint her, saying no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you stay up all night, Clay?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not even tired.” He responded, stretching in his spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, he wasn’t lying. He looked the most awake out of all of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys were talking loudly in the living room, but the rest of your night was spent mostly inside your bedroom, except when you were unceremoniously dragged out of your bed to go get dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You threw on a pair of jeans and joined them in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a fancy restaurant attached to the hotel, but it was casual enough to wear normal clothes, luckily. Tomorrow’s dinner was highly formal, which you didn’t know if you were looking forward to or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The restaurant was a white-tablecloth kind of restaurant, and classy, but still had a casual feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ate, and chatted with George. He was finally being friendly toward you again, which was a major relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you guys streaming while we’re here?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we left everything back in Orlando. We’re taking a break for a couple days.” George responded, taking a bite of his pasta. It was an italian seafood restaurant, but you all got pasta of some kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable,” You said. They all needed a break. You didn’t really know about Nick or Clay, but George worked himself way too hard, all the time. He was constantly locked in his room, editing or streaming or joining someone else’s stream. He rarely had time for anything else, especially mundane things like hanging out with his family. It was sad, but it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you ever want to stream, Y/N?” Nick said, pointing his fork at you. It still had a noodle on it, and you laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I wouldn’t stream myself.” You said. “I play Minecraft, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she’s not good at it.” George concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I used to be better than you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because I focused more on coding than gameplay for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuses.” You rolled your eyes. “Just admit that I used to beat you in PvP.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what you’re saying is,” Clay said. “You’d be interested in appearing on stream someday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just said that I wouldn’t stream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you wouldn’t stream </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Would you like to play with us? On our stream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You paused. “I’ve never been asked before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a yes?” Clay asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” You contemplated. “Sure. Not now, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we get back, of course.” Nick confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really want to see you kick George’s ass in PvP,” Clay laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head. “No, no. I’m not good anymore. I said I </span>
  <em>
    <span>used to be. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I haven’t PvPed in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll train you,” Nick said, but both Clay and George laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, patting him lightly, and offered him a weak smile. “No offence, Nick, but I’d beat you in a 1v1 without practice, having not played Minecraft in a year and a half.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick’s jaw dropped and he stared at you, speechless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no. I’ll train you. You’ll be able to beat Technoblade in like a week.” Clay said, rather confidently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped your hand off of Nick. “You can’t even beat Technoblade, idiot.” You responded, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Clay’s jaw that dropped next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked at George, expecting him to try you as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, he didn’t. He knew a bit better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the lift, up to the fifteenth floor, you stood in the corner, holding onto the railing lightly. The soft dings as each floor went by were the only sound in the small box. You all stood there in a content silence. It was the first time you’d felt peaceful since Clay picked you and George up at the airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That peace, however, was interrupted when you got back to the suite, thanks to Clay, of course.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Yes, ma'am.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this chapter totally could have been cut into two, but it's time to get it going. I'm so sorry for what you're about to witness. You're going to experience at least two, if not more, emotions.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>George and Nick immediately walked out to the balcony and sat down on the cute green chairs to watch the sunset, which was just starting. You could see the orange clashing against the blue sky and blue water through the window, the bright sun disappearing slowly behind the waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glanced at Clay, but quickly pulled your eyes away when you noticed that he was staring at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need something?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. All good here.” You shook your head, eyes averted at the sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, but kept his gaze on you. “Did you enjoy dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was good. Really good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was getting closer to you by the word, and you felt the thick tension rise to the surface again. The same one that’d been following you around whenever Clay got near. You thought it was gone. Why was it still affecting you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eager to change the subject, you laughed nervously and turned toward your room. “So, you’re going to teach me how to PvP then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took that as an invitation to follow you into the hallway, away from the sight of the boys outside. You stopped and turned around, pressing your back into the cold white door. not looking to invite him in your room accidentally. You took in a sharp breath when you realized how close he already was to you. Inches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can, if you want me to,” He dipped his head in a nod. It sounded like he was alluding to something else, but you dropped it before the thought blossomed further in your mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” You said softly. You leaned back, but you were already pressed completely against the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When am I getting this back, by the way?” He asked, fingers grasping lightly on the hem of the sweatshirt you wore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You panicked slightly as he began lifting it up. You pushed his hands down, stopping him from literally stripping you in the hallway, shaking your head, face reddening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right now, preferably,” You laughed anxiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, pulling it up once more. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t get far, as you grabbed onto his wrists, preventing his movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not wearing a shirt,” You said through your teeth, raising your eyebrows at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even better,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed at him in disbelief, but it came out as a nervous chuckle. The audacity he had, honestly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clay</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He mocked back, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knock it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say ‘please’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>eighth time </span>
  </em>
  <span>that day (A/N: what the fuck) and pushed his hands away from you. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snuck a hand past the loose hoodie and grabbed the bare skin at your waist, making your breath catch in your throat suddenly. His cool fingers pressed into your hip. “C’mon-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You interrupted him. “No, you ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>c’mon,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Clay. Knock it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing anything,” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re goading me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing a damn thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” He teased. “That's all I need to do to get a reaction from you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or look in your direction. Or talk to you. Touching, too, but it was easier to get under your skin than he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was bringing his head closer and closer to yours, tipping it to one side. Was he about to kiss you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand was creeping up to the door handle, and right as he was within centimeters of your lips, you opened the door and collapsed into your room suddenly, closing it in front of you. You left Clay in the hallway, who stared at the door in amusement for a moment before walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched his shadow disappear from the small gap under the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ran your hands through your hair, pacing around for a second before collapsing on your bed in exhaustion. It had been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You thought about scolding Clay for a while, but in the end decided that it wasn’t worth it. If he hadn’t caught on by now, he wasn’t going to at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>just doing it for a reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A reaction which you gave easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long shower in the extremely fancy bathroom, you fell asleep. It was barely 9 p.m., but you were dead tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat probably had something to do with it. This week, you’d been outside for longer than you had all year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having fallen asleep early, you found yourself awake just before the sun was out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pool was open pretty early, at sunrise, so you headed downstairs after sending a text to your brother about where you were going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was pretty bright by the time you got down to the ground floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat in a pool chair, staring out at the waves that came in, crashing against the rocks right below the hotel. You wore the same white bikini from the day before, because it was better for sitting in the sun. The black one gave weird tan lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only people out around the pool, besides you, were a handful of elderly people that were lounging either in the pool chairs or in the shallow end of the large blue pool. You seemed to be the only person below 60, which you honestly weren’t complaining about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You thought about dinner that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did you agree to come to the beach? Hell, why did you agree to come to Florida?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed and pulled your sunglasses away from your eyes, only to be face to face with Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” You yelped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” He smiled. He was wearing swim trunks, and seemed even more prepared for the pool than you were. You were wearing a swimsuit, yes, but had no intention of getting in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, good morning?” You responded, sitting upright in the seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick sat down in the chair next to you. “George and Clay are picking up breakfast. They said you’d be down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you go with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick shrugged, leaning back, soaking in the sun with you. “Because I’d rather hang out with you than walk a mile at nine in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it already nine?” You asked, grabbing your phone and checking the time. It was indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Already’? How long have you been awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe seven? I’ve been down here since eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick shrugged again and pulled out his phone, sending a text or two and then looking back up at you, raising an eyebrow. “So...didn’t see you after dinner. Were you avoiding someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed out a laugh. “Yes, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. You would’ve loved to talk about it, actually, but unfortunately, the root of all of your problems was walking through the pool gate right now, next to your brother, carrying bags of takeout in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet. Maybe later,” You said, staring right past Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They approached and Clay smiled brightly at you. He seemed surprisingly happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re swimming?” George asked, noticing Nick and your attire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed so,” Nick said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George and Clay nodded and headed inside to change. They came out a few minutes later, ready to swim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast consisted of sub sandwiches from a cute joint around the corner. It was gone pretty quick and the boys were already hopping in the water before you could even get a word in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were still lounging poolside, not looking to get in at all. If you did, you’d need another shower before dinner, and you didn’t want to take the time out of your already busy day to do that. You’d showered last night, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grew very suspicious when Clay got out of the water and began walking over to your spot in the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down in the spot that was previously occupied by Nick and smiled disarmingly at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shot him a cursory smile back, but nothing else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you getting in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You denied, shaking your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, the water’s great,” He said, leaning toward you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to have to shower again,” You said. “I showered last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s plenty of time before dinner. No need to rush. I think we’re going to be here most of the day anyway, because we’ve got all day tomorrow to scour the city,” He grinned. “Come on, Y/N. Swim with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat up, facing him, and tipped your sunglasses up, out of your eyes. God, why? Why was he so hot?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up!” He said, standing up himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was reminding you of yesterday on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up, come on,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve said ‘come on,’ like three times now. I’m not ‘coming on,’ Clay.” You said, eyes determined this time. You set your sunglasses down on the chair and raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flashed with mischief. “Y/N, you’re in Florida. We’re on the beach. Get in the pool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up, before I pick you up and throw you in.” He stood up, staring down at you. He was so tall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared up at him. “You wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really would. And I’m about to if you don’t get in,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you even touch me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay grabbed your hands and pulled. You were lifted easily. You glared back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being stubborn. Let’s get in the water,” He said, trying to pull you toward the pool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your feet moved on their own accord, because your body just loved to react in the exact opposite way that you wanted it to whenever Clay was around you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed the whole way to the edge of the water and stared down at it, still not planning on getting in the water. You looked up at Clay in irritation. He wore a giant smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not getting in,” You cautioned, looking at him in amusement, as if he was actually going to get you in the wa-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In seconds, he grabbed you around the waist and proceeded to jump into the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were submerged for only a second or two, and surfaced in a gasp of air. You wiped the water out of your eyes, searching for the male who betrayed you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Clay?” You yelped. You were laughing, but also pissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t the water nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t focus on his words, only on the arms wrapped around his waist. You pushed him away and floated back in the water a few feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only swam back up to you. You moved back once more and bumped into Nick, who grabbed your shoulders, stopping you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yay! You’re swimming!” Nick said. “I was starting to think you didn’t know how to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how to swim,” You blurted aggressively. More aggressively than you meant to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes back and you shoved him in the water. He moved a bit, but laughed at your meager attempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” You bit, turning around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But behind you was Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned right back around to Nick and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not exactly a fan of pools,” You said, tightly smiling at the group. “I’m going to the hot tub.” You waded out of the shallow pool and ended up dipping your toes into the hot tub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t get all the way in, because it was already pretty warm outside, but you did relax there for a while, feet in the water. By yourself, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys splashed around for a bit in the pool, having a grand ol’ time, while you sat in contemplation. You didn’t have anything on your mind, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt like you should’ve been angrier. More annoyed at Clay. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing you’d been saying for the last few days was to stop pushing you. He didn’t even have George’s permission yet, so why was he still vying so hard for your attention?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he just leave it at what it was? It’s not like it was going to go anywhere, especially with George how he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe you were thinking about him. But how could you not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was everything you thought about lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt a presence at your side, and instinctively turned away, knowing it would be Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instincts can be wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cranked your head to face him, staring in confusion. You didn’t expect him. “I’m fine. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No reason.” He said, and repeated. “No reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You offered him nothing but a tight smile and went back to staring at the bubbles forming in the hot water below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was breakfast good? I forgot to ask what you wanted, so I kind of guessed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was fine,” You shrugged. He got your order spot on, unsurprisingly, but you didn’t want to give that away. You huffed. “What did you really want to talk about? I know you didn’t come over here just to talk about sandwiches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “I-yeah. I really didn’t come over here to talk about sandwiches.” He patted his legs in a rhythmic pattern, staring down. “Umm...so...I wanted to talk about Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Because that conversation went so well last time,” You mumbled, thinking about how angry he was after catching you kissing in the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Y/N, I really want to talk about it,” He insisted, hands stilling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is there to talk about?” You whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed. “Alright, then. Talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I don’t like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” That much was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid of-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You interrupted, “You’re afraid of losing him, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, no-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger boiled into your throat, similar to the hot tub in front of you. “Yes, you are. I get it. I understand, trust me.” It was way too early to be arguing already. You pulled your pruning feet out of the water and stood up. “I’m really not in the mood to discuss this right now. Maybe later. After dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “Y/N-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” You said, with venom in your tone. “Later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked away quickly, grabbing your sunglasses and keycard. You put your coverup on over your swimsuit and entered the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were in the suite in just a few minutes. Other guests could see the glare on your face and seemed to make the way for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat on the couch in the suite, staring at the television that wasn’t on. You stared at it blankly, as if it was supposed to talk to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, of course it didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a fucking televison, idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You combed a hand through your wet hair. Now you had to shower. Thanks, Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, you were pissed off at everything. First, the TV. Then Clay. Then you realized that you left your phone down at the pool. Of course, you did. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked out to the balcony and looked down, squinting. Yep, there it was, sitting next to Clay and George’s things. You rolled your eyes. How had you left your phone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since you were out on the balcony, you took a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you noticed that the boys were already back to fucking around, acting like children, you rolled your eyes and put your head in your hands, trying to calm yourself a little bit. You had to actively relax your jaw when you realized it was clenched. You took a deep breath and leaned back, hands rubbing from your forehead to the back of your neck. Relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relax?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bath! Those were always good for relaxation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got up, not much longer after you’d sat down, and headed to the bathroom. The tub slowly filled, and you waited impatiently, drumming your fingers on the sink as the water rose leisurely, as if you didn’t have somewhere to be. Rude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as it was half-full, you got in. The hotel was so generous as to supply bubblebath. It was sitting in the corner of the tub, waiting eagerly for you to use it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dumped the whole bottle in. Granted, it was a small bottle, but it still made a lot more bubbles than you thought it would. You were completely covered in minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt like a child, but it was amazing. Your bad mood dissolved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Definitely the distraction you required.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you spend at least an hour (possibly more) in the bath? Yes. Yes, you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you ignore the several times that someone knocked on the door? Yes, you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you nap in the bath, as well? Absolutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You reluctantly got out of the tub when you realized that the water was ice-cold and you couldn’t feel your legs anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While you were in the bathroom, you put some pajamas on, to be comfortable while you got ready, and dried your hair. You pulled it back, away from your face. You stared for a moment but decided that it was not an up-do kind of night. You dropped it, letting it hang down, naturally. That was better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You applied a bit of makeup, more than you usually did, but it was a fancy night. You allowed yourself to feel fancy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then you remembered the heels you’d be wearing. Those weren’t going to be fun to walk to the restaurant in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You left the bathroom, at last, and were welcomed to the natural sun for the first time in a couple hours. You pulled the dark green dress out of the closet, where you’d stored it, and laid it across the bed, admiring it for a moment. It was cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You began to strip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had barely gotten your top off, throwing it to the ground next to your ever-growing pile of laundry, before you heard the sound of the door open. Your head whipped around to see who the perpetrator was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had a 66% chance of this going well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was your brother. He’d seen you in numerous embarrassing situations before, including accidentally walking in on you changing several times. That’s just how it was, living in a house with people who never fucking knocked before entering. If it was Clay, you’d get red, but not necessarily embarrassed. At the speed he was going, he was bound to see you shirtless at some point. Motherfucker sure was a speedrunner, if you’d ever seen one before. He’d tease you about it, maybe make some sort of innuendo that you’d roll your eyes and reprimand him for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, of course, it had to be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one other person </span>
  </em>
  <span>who was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick was standing in the open door, mouth ajar, staring at you. He held your phone in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood in the center of the room, arms at your sides in nothing but your soft pajama shorts that you’d been lounging in and a bra, eyes wide at the Texan, waiting for him to react or leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood so still, it was like he was trying to faze himself out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, his eyes dropped to the floor and his face blossomed a bright, scarlet red. For lack of a better word, Nick looked mortified. He was frozen, unmoving. The only move he’d made was to snap his eyes away from your direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You honestly weren’t too embarrassed. It happens, right? And it’s not like all the boys hadn’t already seen this much of you after the beach and pool today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick?” You said, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am?” He asked, eyes glued to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and stepped out the room, closing the door behind him quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to laugh at the situation. You weren’t really that embarrassed. As confident and cocky as Nick was, he was still pretty shy, especially around you. He acted tough, but in reality, he was a sweetie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened again, but just by a crack. You saw him deposit your phone on the floor and close it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re leaving in half an hour. We’re ready.” He said through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed your phone off of the floor, where he left it, and went through the notifications quickly. There was nothing of importance, except a few texts from Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>    Hey, are you okay?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     What did you and George talk about?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     Are you upset at me for throwing you in the pool?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     I just realized you left your phone down here</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     Sorry…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed, and decided to actually respond. Well, you weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>going to, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he seemed genuinely concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>    i’m fine. just wanted to get ready early.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     george and i talked about stuff. you know, sibling stuff. i’m not mad at you</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     not for the pool, at least. the other stuff is still up for debate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slipped on the dress, tying it in the back, and then put on the heels. You walked over to the floor length mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked good, which you had to give yourself credit for, considering you felt like jumping off the fifteenth floor balcony in order to get out of this dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, you peeked over your shoulder to see a few different angles of the dress. Damn, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>look good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay had a hard enough time keeping his hands off of you when you wore pajamas and comfy clothes. This was going to make it even harder for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled your hair over your shoulders and took a deep breath before opening the door, walking into the living room.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Let's start with 'yes.'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really told myself I was going to wait to post this chapter, for at least a few more hours. Welp. I also happen to be a slut for validation and positive reinforcement, so here we go xD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Now, you looked great. That was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you were surprised to see how good all of the boys looked. You were thoroughly impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were standing in the living room, all ready to go. George was wearing a light gray sweater over a button up, which peeked out of the top of the shirt. He had black jeans on, and unsurprisingly, his white Air Force 1’s. He looked adorable. You rarely saw him dress up, especially after college, and never when he was at university.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a blue bow tie around his neck, untied, which you’d never seen him wear once in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked over to him and began tying the bow tie immediately. It was the first thing that your eyes were drawn to when you entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looped it and tied it neatly, smiling at your masterpiece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look nice,” You said earnestly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked away from George, to Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick was wearing a dark gray suit, and even paired it with a tie. It was dark red, and was lying slightly unevenly down his front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You fixed it for him as well while he chuckled, and you smiled warmly. He looked great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped your chin a bit when your eyes got to Clay. His shoes were incredibly interesting, so you kept your eyes on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a lie. His shoes were shoes. Shoes were always boring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay brought his hand up, nudging your chin just a bit. Your eyes locked onto his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked handsome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wore black slacks, with a matching black jacket. He had a white button up on. When he dropped his hand from your chin, he put his hand in his pocket, exposing a pair of suspenders from under his jacket, which surprised you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to admit, he looked extremely good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes trailed from his suspenders, which were a dark green, down to your dress. It was the exact same color. That was odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re matching,” You said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head to the side and his eyes followed the same path yours did, first at his own suspenders and then at your dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” He nodded in confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look good as hell,” Nick complimented, whistling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled at him and stuck your tongue out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Clay squirm for a moment in his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George hit Nick on the shoulder. “Careful, Clay’s gonna get jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn right.” Clay said, which made you turn on your heel toward him, shooting a look of confusion at him, communicating ‘shut up,’ with your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready, Y/N?” George asked, completely glossing over what Clay just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to mentally shake yourself back into real life. Someone had clearly taken over your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes-umm, I’m ready. Yeah. Let’s go.” You were still confused, walking out the door, and even more confused as you got in the elevator. The discomposure followed you down the street as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who were these boys? They weren’t...your boys anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was allowing Clay to flirt with you, vocally. And not even flinching or showing shock. Did he just randomly get over himself over-night?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick was being himself-and that was great. Needed, in fact. Otherwise you’d have gone fucking crazy. It was at that moment you realized that after Nick left for Texas, you’d have two weeks alone with just Clay and George. You dreaded the anticipation. As if it wasn’t bad enough before he arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay, though. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was acting like your boyfriend. You didn’t know how to respond to the behavior, so you kept your distance on the walk to the restaurant. It was the longest 20 minute walk in the history of 20 minute walks, especially in those damn shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were about to take them off, actually, until the restaurant came into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was gorgeous inside. White table cloths and wine glasses set out on every table. Twenty-foot-tall ceilings, with windows that went all the way up, and curtains that followed them all the way down. There was about half an hour until sunset, and the beach was still lit up. It was the most beautiful place to watch the view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reservation that Clay had made was perfectly timed to when you arrived, and you got your table immediately. Everything he did was so effortless and perfect. It pissed you off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sat down first, and then Nick next to him. Clay pulled a seat out and gestured to it. You sat down and he pushed your seat in for you. You chuckled to yourself, watching George’s eyes, expecting some sort of rebuttal for Clay’s behavior, but they remained on Nick. They were deep in conversation, and he didn’t see. Your chuckle stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waiter, Nate, came over immediately and expertly explained the menu after complimenting the whole group on how you all looked. You all looked perfect, even after just walking a mile in the Florida heat. To be fair, you were most likely doing the best out of the whole group. The boys all had real pants on, and probably envied your lack thereof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Y/N,” George started, handing you a smaller menu. “Happy birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the wine menu. You looked at him curiously, holding your water glass in one hand, and the menu in the other. “Oh?” In all fairness, you’d half forgotten about your birthday, and half wasn’t looking forward to it. It was during the trip. You didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to yourself, so you just didn’t mention it to anyone. To be fair, you thought that George forgot when he planned the trip. You guessed not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy 21st, gorgeous.” Clay said, smiling. He brought his water glass toward yours and clinked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled back distractedly, still processing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re legal!” Nick mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was already legal three years ago, Nick,” You laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re legal part-two!” He responded, not faltering for even a moment. “What did you do when you turned 18?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George answered for you. “She had exactly one glass of rosé and promptly fell asleep twenty minutes later. That is what Y/N did, the night she drank for the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded, laughing softly. “That-uh, yeah. That’s what I did.” You didn’t tell that story often because it was embarrassing. And honestly, it was more like ten minutes later. You weren’t even awake long enough for the effects to hit you. And when you woke up, it was like you’d never drank at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cocked your head to the side. “Was this supposed to be a birthday dinner, then?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “Mhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” Clay said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were waiting for you to say something, but you just...didn’t.” Nick shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set the wine menu down and laughed. “Well, fuck. Thanks, guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay took advantage of your hand on the table, and grabbed it in his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes shot down, staring at your hand that was encompassed by his. Then your eyes shot up to his green eyes. They were looking a bit blue today, but he was facing the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled your hand away softly and folded your hands together, placing them on your lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look disappointed, like you could usually see in his expression when you pulled away from him. He looked hopeful, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nate came back and took your orders, and walked away to ring it in. Nick pulled out his phone and demanded the group take some pictures before the food got there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had it in selfie-mode, and posed in the front, with George, while you and Clay were between their heads, in the background behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last one!” Nick yelled and aimed the camera once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before he snapped the photo, Clay reached over and placed his hand on your cheek, and under your jaw, adjusting the position so that you were facing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You closed your eyes and didn’t realize what was happening until he pressed a long, warm kiss on your lips right as Nick took the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were so surprised that you didn’t react in time. As soon as the flash was gone, you pulled away sharply, staring at Clay as though he had just committed a murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, trying to block out what had just happened, but it was impossible. You felt like you had steam coming out of your ears. You turned your head slowly to where the blond was sitting and raised an eyebrow. You stood up, not saying a word, and walked toward the front door of the restaurant as quickly as you could without running.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay followed, like you expected him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you got far enough from the building, you turned around and threw your arms up in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is going on?” You cried out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay grabbed your hands. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m talking about you!” You laughed in absolute bewilderment. “What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re driving me-” You took a deep breath. “You’re driving me crazy,” You whispered, combing a hand through your hair. The wind had picked up since you’d gotten inside the building, but it wasn’t intolerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You-fuck, Clay! What haven’t you done? On the list of all the things I told you not to do, you’ve done every single one of them. I...you’re touching me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You-you pulled out my chair for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t girls like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re complimenting me like we’re dating,” You listed off. “You tried to hold my hand. You fucking kissed me, Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not remember me asking you not to? Not to...kiss me? To-to-to respect my wishes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>behave</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I asked you not to kiss me again.” You were in such distress that you knew your words weren’t coming out correctly, but you were frustrated enough that you didn’t care. “I asked you to respect my boundaries, and you didn’t. How many times am I going to have to ask you?” The resentment in your voice was palpable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed permission, right?” He asked, a puppy dog look on his face. He didn’t seem to notice how angry you were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” You said, eyebrows knit together. “Permission. That’s what I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N.” He said, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your face fell in complete confusion. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You repeated. “I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” He started, pointing to himself, a massive grin on his face. “Talked to George-” He gestured toward the restaurant. “And got-” He did jazz hands. “Permission. This morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘how’? I talked to George. We figured it out. That’s how. Why aren’t you excited?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You closed your eyes and brought your hand to the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been sitting on this information, for what? Eight hours, now? Nine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twelve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled your hand away from your face and wrapped both of his arms around your waist. You had the urge to push him away, like you’d been doing all week, but...he had permission now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he had George’s. He still had to work for yours a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gently unwrapped him from you and held his hands, albeit, at a distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay,” You repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened your mouth, but you were stumped. You had no idea what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please say something,” He begged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a whole list of things I’ve been waiting for you to say...but let’s start with ‘yes.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” You repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic!” Clay said. He pulled you in by your waist and planted a solid kiss against your lips. You didn’t know what to do, so you did what your gut told you to do. You kissed him back, finally. For the first time since you’d been caught in the library, when he had pinned you against the bookshelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips were different than last time. They were more sure. Less hesitant, now that George wasn’t holding either of you back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped his hands around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could. You grabbed him by the suspenders, and pulled him closer to you as well. You stayed there for several moments, just embracing each other, kissing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled away slowly, staring up into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” He smiled. “I’m your idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask, uh, what happened this morning?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Do I have your permission?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clay and George were walking down the street, parallel to the beach, on their way to pick up breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay ran a hand through his hair. He looked down at George, unsure how to start this conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gave me a rock, yesterday.” He said, as an attempt to start</span>
  <em>
    <span> anything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anything to just get the ball rolling and end the awkward silence that had been following them since they left the hotel suite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.” George responded simply, eyes focused on the path in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay fumbled with his hands, not knowing exactly what to do with them. “Your sister knows a lot about rocks,” He said quickly; anxiously. “I think she noticed something that I didn’t,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did it mean? The one you gave me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunet sighed. “Do you want the textbook definition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>interpretation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, it’s usually supposed to be about your interpretation, not mine. You’re supposed to ‘know what I mean, just by looking at it,’ or some bullshit. But, unfortunately, Y/N and I take rock-hunting a bit too seriously and go into the real meanings, so an ugly gray rock might have sent the wrong message to someone who didn’t know it was a blue agate.” George stopped walking, and Clay stopped in place as well. He said bluntly, “It means that I’ve accepted it. And that I’m forgiving you. A blue agate, it, uh, it ‘promotes self-acceptance and confidence and encourages you to speak the truth,’ so...here’s the truth.” He turned one hand palm up, shaking it in a very unenthused-jazz hand, “I’m not mad. Not anymore, I guess. I’m not sure if I ever really was.” He shrugged, not knowing how to finish his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s eyebrows were furrowed. “You’re not mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was frustrated,” George admitted. “And a bit worried, because I thought that you were going to ignore me the whole time,” He laughed sadly. “I thought that if you ended up liking each other, I would have a shit time and feel left out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you the one that convinced her to come in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, really great idea on my end, huh?” George laughed, but it came out dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay hesitated. “Would you have asked her to come, knowing the outcome?” He asked after a brief pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, I-I tried my best to ignore it, but you guys made it so fucking obvious. I’m not that oblivious, you know? It started the moment we got there. Every time I left the room, I came back to find you both tense. It was so obvious. But I ignored it, for both of your sakes. When I caught you kissing-yes, I blew up. I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have.” Clay tried to interject, but George brought his hand up, silencing him. “I would have still brought her, yes. Despite how...frustrating it’s been.” George sat down on the nearest bench, staring out at the horizon, where the water met the orange sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sat down too, resting his elbows on his knees, hands rubbing together anxiously. “George...don’t be mad at Y/N...please. Everytime I approached her, she’d walk away because she didn’t want to upset you. I think that if I hadn’t pushed her as much as I did, we wouldn’t have even kissed. It was all me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, how gracious of her, not to immediately pounce on you.” George shook his head, leaning back to feel the soft wind on his cheeks. It was a lovely morning, but both of them were slightly too distracted by the conversation. “As much as I would love to go back to being the fun brother, you’ve still snogged my sister and I’m absolutely fucking disgusted by that, still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Clay said, dropping his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you both that you were off-limits, and I think that just made it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that definitely just made it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...so...where do we go from here?” George asked, looking back at his friend. His best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sighed. This was it. Now or never. “Well, I guess now, I need to ask you...as much as this kills me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>do I have your permission?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George snorted and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s face dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George continued after a beat; pausing just long enough to make Clay squirm, “But, you know what? It’s not really my decision. You’re both adults. It’s not up to me who you snog.” He shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands. “So, I guess you do have my permission. But, again, it’s not up to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay had a smile growing on his face. He stood up from the bench, George following him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking her out tonight, then.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. It's supposed to be a rock, technically.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your chair creaked when you sat back down. Nick and George turned to look at the two of you, but you were too busy staring at Clay, who was smiling at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled back and turned to look outside. The sun was finally setting. It was beautiful. When you looked back, Nick was smirking at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, idiot.” Nick laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed. Now it all made sense why George wasn’t reacting the whole day to Clay, like he normally did. He didn’t even care that Clay </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed you </span>
  </em>
  <span>in front of him. He already fucking knew. Clay got...permission...somehow. You still weren’t completely aware of how he did that, but you guessed that you were happy about it. Now you could kiss Clay whenever you wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wanted to reprimand all of the boys, each for individual reasons, but you got interrupted by Nate, the waiter, bringing food to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got the black grouper, which the waiter had said was the most popular item on the menu. It looked great, too. George was already eating his filet, and Nick was starting on his bass. Clay had ordered some sort of expensive ribeye that looked delicious. The thing about beach towns was the excess amount of fish on their menus. You were never always a fish fan, but you were exploring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They also brought wine out, for everyone except Nick, who sulked for only a moment. It was a deep red and extremely sweet, but delicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” George said, still chewing his filet. “You two...talk things out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay glanced over at you. “We did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did.” You repeated, nodding in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please-” Nick started, already laughing at himself. “Please don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do it</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the hotel. In fact, please don’t do it at all,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed. “Were you not the one that told me, just a few days ago, to-and I quote-</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘get some dick’?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You glared at Nick, whose grin was wiped off his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Both George and Clay sputtered at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and Nick both burst into laughter, with you clutching your stomach while you wheezed, leaning your head back. You were getting stared at by every other guest in the restaurant, but you couldn’t possibly care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a sip of your wine and winked at Clay subtly, though you knew all of them saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could tell George was laughing at you as well, but nothing could bother you at this moment. After eating about half of your grouper, you finished off your wine glass (which was quickly refilled by your waiter) and shouted at Nick for another innuendo he snuck into the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took another sip of the candied wine and set the glass down. You were shamelessly staring at Clay now. Well, if he wasn’t so attractive and didn’t look so good in that suit and didn’t have such a lovely personality and a nice voice, you probably wouldn’t have been. It was his fault, if anyone’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in the middle of a discussion, about something you were much too distracted to comprehend, when Clay dropped his hand onto your forearm. He squeezed lightly and smiled softly at you. You put your hand on top of his and smiled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were brought a piece of chocolate cake that said, ‘happy birthday,’ on it and the boys sang to you, despite the large audience that consisted of the other patrons in the building. It was a great birthday, regardless of how the day started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, you didn’t drink </span>
  <em>
    <span>that much</span>
  </em>
  <span> wine at dinner. In fact, your glass was never empty. Nate was very on top of making sure you had more than you needed. That also meant that you really couldn’t tell how much you actually drank. What you did know, was that you were not going to be able to walk the one mile back to the hotel very well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t drunk; not nearly enough, in fact. Barely tipsy, maybe, you told yourself. But you did sway a bit when you walked to the bathroom after dinner, so you promptly took your shoes off and walked back to the table barefoot, carrying them in one hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed, half in amusement because you took your shoes off in the fanciest restaurant in town, and half in disgust that you’d actually be barefoot in the establishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of you left not long after that. You stumbled a bit on your way out, but Clay’s hand in yours helped a lot. You held it tightly the entire way back to the hotel, until you arrived at the door to your suite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George made noises of protest when Clay kissed the top of your head, but you were much too distracted by the forehead kiss you received to worry about the momentary disapproval from your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as your head hit your pillow, you were asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were lying on the beach, some time the next morning, staring into the sky, completely relaxed. More relaxed than you were at home, and definitely more relaxed than you had been on the trip thus far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was bright, but you had sunglasses on, blocking most of it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about emeralds, Y/N?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question came out of almost nowhere, as the silence had surrounded you for about half an hour at that point. You blinked your eyes open and turned your head to look at Clay, who was lying in the sand next to you. In truth, you thought he’d been sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blanket you laid on curled up when you did so, and you sat up to flatten it again. You pulled off your sunglasses and set them next to you. “I know a few things. Not my area of expertise. I suppose it can be a healing crystal, but most stones are. I really haven’t done much research on the gemstones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and sat up as well. “I...took it upon myself to look into a couple rocks. Research. I mean, you gave me a rock. I should give you one too, shouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got me a rock?” You asked, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lip. “I-I’m getting there. Give me a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid back down, staring straight up at the sky. He chuckled and began, “Listen...I’ve...I’ve spent hours looking for the stone that would let you know how I feel. Anything that could tell you what I want to say, but not one rock was perfect. Not one rock would say the words that needed to be said. They didn’t...glisten like you do. None spoke to me; not like they were supposed to.” He paused, sighing. “I thought I would know when I saw it, but I couldn’t find a single one. A rock couldn’t show you how desperately I want you to be mine, or how I want to hold you all the time. But unfortunately, I’m no rock, and I know my words alone aren’t enough to give you the clarity you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth was open, slightly surprised at his proclamation. “That was...poetic, almost,” You said at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the intention,” He nodded, smiling. The idiot probably even practiced the lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you didn’t get me a rock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I did. Kind of.” He assured, sitting up once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kind of? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But I had to buy it,” He said as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart stopped beating for at least 4 seconds, and your breathing halted immediately. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ring box? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Um-Clay,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not proposing,” He clarified suddenly, holding a hand out. “Don’t worry. We’ve known each other for like 4 weeks total,” And only one of those weeks were in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a breath and let a light laugh escape as you tried to calm yourself. “Okay, okay, what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed it to you and you opened it slowly. The ring was set on copper or gold, shaped like a twig. It was like a little branch, holding up an uncut, raw emerald. The way that it sat almost made it look like a tiny crown. You slipped it on your right hand, smiling widely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got me a ring?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s supposed to be a rock, technically.” He quirked an eyebrow, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a ring,” You argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrowed your brows at him. “Where did you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A jewelry shop,” He said as though it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, it’s a ring-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s a rock. An emerald is a rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but a ring is a ring-” You laughed. “Clay,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said...that you did some research. What kind of research?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lip and stared down at the green emerald. “It-uhh. Well, you know, some rock research.” He laughed. “Emeralds are crystals of the heart. It’s supposed to help with conflicts of the heart. They take away the negativity and bring in compassion...and love. And that’s what I wanted to tell you, I just couldn’t find a rock on the beach that could do it justice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway through, you got distracted by one word. “Love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now, listen....I know it's very early for them, but I also think that Dream is the kind of person to say "ily" very quickly. He says it to his friends a lot, very easily. I don't think it would change in this situation. Anyywayys...yeehaw. We're not done yet.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. A small expense to get the right rock,</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You felt your heart thump in your chest, just taking in what he said. You looked down at the ring on your hand, and then back up at him. “Thank you, Clay,” You whispered softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a smile on his face, but gears were turning behind his eyes. “You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t expensive, right?” You asked, sitting up on the blanket, next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and laughed. “This trip was already expensive as it was, what’s another $300?” Why did his love language have to be gift-giving? That, and physical touch. Well, the latter you didn’t mind as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes opened wide in surprise. “$300? What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A small expense to get the right rock,” He joked, though he didn’t seem sarcastic at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the most expensive gift you’d ever been given...you didn’t know exactly how to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay continued, leaning forward, just inches away from you, “You gave me a piece of obsidian, saying it was picked out just for me. You said it was meant to ‘clear confusion,’ but Y/N, I've never been confused about you. And believe me, I've been confused about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>in my life. Everything except you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You thought back to the stone you gave him. The obsidian. It was perfect, and picked out </span>
  <em>
    <span>just for him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You stared at the emerald on your finger, imagining him scouring the beaches, looking for just the right rock to give to you, only for him to give up and walk into the nearest jewelry shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, my little beach rock is starting to look pretty lame compared to this,” You said, holding up your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the hand you held out and pulled both of your arms around his neck. “I think it’s perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your nose brushed his. “I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect,” You smiled against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tipped his chin up, and gently tipped yours up with his index finger to make your lips meet his. It was gentle. It was soft-well, not entirely soft. You pulled away just a moment later and carefully scooped out a piece of grainy sand that had somehow ended up in your mouth. You stared up at Clay in surprise, but laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed as well, and apologized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I hate sand-” He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quoting Anakin Skywalker, you continued in a mocking tone, “‘It’s coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned and pulled you back into him, continuing the snog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a nerd,” He said as his lips disconnected from yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am.” You laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped your arms from around his neck, your back falling onto the blanket in the sand below. You didn’t expect him to follow you down, but he did. He trapped you in between his elbows and pressed his lips against yours once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You giggled against him, pushing him away with absolutely no force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were glad that George and Nick chose to sleep in that morning, as you got your first official alone time with Clay. It was so nice to not have to worry about anything at all, especially not the eyes of your brother and the constant fear of being caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This went on for a while, pausing only when you both remembered that you were in fact in public, and perhaps being disrespectful to the beachgoers passing by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled bashfully off of you eventually, kissing your forehead before completely removing himself from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing today?” You asked, dropping your head to one side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay contemplated for a moment, staring back at you. He listed off, “Well, there’s a few museums we could go to. Or breweries, restaurants, cruises? Or we could go to Tampa; it’s only like 20 minutes away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That all seems tame compared to your taste,” You joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you expect? A yacht?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, kind of,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “How do you feel about visiting a Scientology Church in town?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scientology Church?” You repeated, a sceptical tone to your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s some weird American cult religion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds...fun, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, no weird cult religion church tour,” He laughed. “What about the aquarium?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright with anything you want to do.” You booped his nose with the tip of your pointer finger, which made his face wrinkle up. You grinned at his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know when George and Sap are coming down?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one that dragged me down here early so we could-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yeah, well,” He grinned back at you. “I wanted a little bit of time alone with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked from side to side, seeing dozens of people around you. “Oh yes,” You quirked an eyebrow at Clay. “Because we’re very much </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More alone than we have been in the last week,” He clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were busy looking at the water, when you suddenly remembered something. You held out your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get an emerald because it’s green, and your Minecraft skin is green?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furrowed his brows, staring at the ring as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm,” He laughed, suddenly seeming nervous. “I-uhh, well,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked up at him in amusement, and he sheepishly met your stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t my intention,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed together and he grabbed your hand in his, the one that had the ring on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” He said, wrapping his other arm around your waist. “As funny as that would be, I did actually put time into picking it out. I spent hours thinking about it and researching what I should get. It wasn’t a joke. And, I’m serious. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was early. Very early. You were hesitant to say it back, although it was very clear that he meant it. But it was too early for you, and you didn’t need to justify that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You just smiled at him and leaned in, kissing him softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In town, a few hours later with all three of the boys, you watched silently as they communicated. They did things with such synchronicity that you were beyond shocked that they had never met in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something funny would happen, and all three of the boys would look at each other at the exact same time, each raising an eyebrow or nudging the other with an elbow, laughing together. They had some sort of telepathic communication going on that went right over your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You just shook your head and chuckled softly at them, wondering if you would ever understand them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay took you all to the aquarium, as promised, as well as on a short boat ride tour around the coast. The animals were adorable and the view of the city was beautiful. It was a great day, but it couldn’t have been better than yesterday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were walking off the boat, back to the dock and flat ground, when Clay grabbed your hand. You took it gratefully, as you nearly tripped right as he did so. He grabbed around your waist and steadied you onto the sturdy wood of the pier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped your head and thanked him, slightly embarrassed. As soon as you were flat on the ground, he pulled away and smiled at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” He teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am careful,” You said, pushing him off. “I’m also just clumsy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your middle name </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘clumsy,’” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yours is ‘simp,’” You retorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not a simp. That’s you, Y/N.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Clay said to George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick nodded. “You definitely are. I’ve never once seen Y/N be a simp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you both,” You said, smirking at your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed, but laughed in response. You were glad to finally be back to normal with him. As normal as you could be, at least. Even you had to admit, dating the best friend of your brother was a bit weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were sitting on Pier 60, staring out at the Gulf of Mexico as the sun dropped slowly behind the water. It was the last night in Clearwater, and Clay insisted that you all spent one night properly watching the sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had your feet hanging off the pier above the water. Clay was behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, and had his chin on your shoulder, just staring out at the sunset with you. On your right was Nick, and on your left was George. You were holding onto Clay’s arms, enjoying the tight embrace you were gifted with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were watching the sunset, but his arms wrapped around you were much too distracting to not be completely focused on. Occasionally, he would squeeze you a bit, just to remind you that he was there. You’d squeeze his forearm back in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head toward you and whispered something in your ear that you giggled at in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt his hot breath against your skin and shivered. It wasn’t a particularly warm night, as it was getting colder each minute that the sun went down, but you felt yourself burning under his touch. You remembered the last time you were in a similar situation with Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay leaned his arm past yours to grab a water bottle for himself, his body against yours. You shuddered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay’s breath was hot in your ear. “Just letting you know,” He murmured, “If I see the opportunity, I’m going to take it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your back straightened suddenly, not being able to get the specific memory out of your head. He had his body pressed up against your back, similarly to how he had a week prior, and you felt his warm breath against you. Only, this time, you weren’t nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were the opposite. Clay was giving you more comfort than he knew he was able to provide. His arms made you feel safe, though the water came in rough waves just inches beneath your feet terrified you. His head on your shoulder was a gentle reminder that he was there for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned to look at him, right as the sun dipped behind the water. His green eyes reflected the waves. In yours, he saw the sun fall. He kissed your nose and smiled softly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. There's sand in my bed.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Your turn,” Clay said, passing the aux cord to George, sitting in the passenger seat next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George plugged it into his phone and played something by Travis Scott that you didn’t recognize. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed at his selection, and he turned around at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your music isn’t much better.” He sassed back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stuck your tongue out and went back to your phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick was texting you, and had been the entire drive. You were halfway home from the beach, back to Orlando.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a good trip, as far as you were concerned. You went in completely unaware of what was going to happen in the four days you were there. It was stressful, yes, but you were used to that by now. If Clay knew how to do one thing, it was push your buttons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick nudged you on the shoulder and leaned closer to you, gesturing to his phone. It was a Tweet that you giggled at. Something about Minecraft, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt someone’s eyes on you, but you ignored it as Nick opened up a ‘memes’ folder in his camera roll and began flipping through it, sharing them with you. You laughed along, head tilted to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When George looked back to hand the aux cord to you, he glanced curiously for just a moment before looking back at Clay. You plugged it into your phone and played one of your favorite songs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Nick could show you another meme, you sent him a game of 8 Ball and stared at him, waiting for him to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got the notification and slid over to your messages. He played back and grinned, sinking three balls in one round. He was stripes. You were solids. The smile was wiped off his face when you won, the next round, sinking every single solid ball.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately sent a game back to you, a frown on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You played back, and then he did. And then you did. When he responded, he missed his last shot. The black ball was the last one on the board. You aimed. It was an easy shot, but somehow, you missed it. You sighed and dropped your phone into your lap, annoyed at yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick chuckled cockily and you watched over his shoulder as he shot the white ball toward the black ball. It hit it, and sank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You breathed out and clicked the power button on your own phone, shutting it off. Nick shouted victoriously, pointing his phone in your face. You pushed it away in annoyance. Your dissatisfaction was short-lasted, however, because the cue ball sank in an opposite hole, losing the game for Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jumped up in your seat when you both noticed, whooping excitedly. You punched his shoulder lightly. “I won. You’re a loser. Suck it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick grumbled in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sent back another game, but he ignored it purposely, not wanting to lose for the third time in a row.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the drive was spent switching between everyone’s Spotifys. Nick continued to show you memes, grudgingly at first, still a bit bitter at his losses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another couple minutes, Nick looked at you conspiratorially and discreetly opened another folder in his camera roll. It was full of distorted and edited George memes. There were...hundreds...of pictures. You couldn’t stop laughing at them. Some were cringy. Some were of his Minecraft character. Some were edited to look like Snapchats that George would never send.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t realize how close you were to Nick until your eyes met with Clay’s in the rearview mirror. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, eyes both locked on Nick’s phone. You leaned back into your seat and pulled out your own phone, distracting yourself with something that wasn’t a meme of your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the drive was over, it was dark outside and you were yawning. It was definitely bed time. You all spent way too long at the beach, and you knew that you were going to be home late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled your bag into your room, alone for the first time since you woke up that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you unpacked your beach bag, you realized how often you had company. You were used to being alone, but you had almost no time for that in Florida. No alone-time in the last week. But you were...surprisingly fine with that. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to be alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, you might have preferred to be with Clay than to be by yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After changing into your night clothes, you laid down in your bed for just a second before getting up again. There was sand in your bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were frowning, trying to shake it out of your blanket, when your door was pushed open. Clay quirked an eyebrow, staring at you curiously. He was wearing pajamas and appeared to be ready for bed as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sand </span>
  </em>
  <span>in my bed.” You grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached you and took the blanket out of your hands, setting it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep in mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blinked back at him, the words not completely processing in your sleep deprived brain. “What?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked around you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, dropping his chin on top of your head. “Sleep in my bed,” He said casually. “If there’s sand in yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You thought about what that suggested...but didn’t react. “It’s okay,” You shrugged, looking down. You could always just wash your sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no sand in mine.” He suggested again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I can deal with it,” You said. You were extremely tired after the long day you’d had, and probably wouldn’t even notice the sand by the time you were asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” He gave in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You twisted in his arms to face him. “You’re not going to argue with me? Not going to drag me by my ear or seduce me until I join you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never!” He pulled away, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would, and you know it. Now, leave. I’m about to pass out.” You rubbed at your eye and yawned again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. “Alright, I would. But I’m not going to push you this time. You tend to have a hard time when it comes to not listening to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is incredibly your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let him kiss your forehead and watched as he left the room, saying goodnight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got back into bed not long after. You rolled around, trying to get comfortable, but found yourself unable to. You wrapped a different blanket around yourself, but found that it too had sand in it. As tired as you were, you couldn’t fall asleep. You felt the grainy feeling all over. How did you track </span>
  <em>
    <span>that much sand </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the beach into your bed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly, you got up, frustrated. You took a shower, desperate to relieve yourself of the itchy feeling, and put on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, you found yourself walking up the stairs that led to Clay’s bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pushed open the door and found him lying on his bed, one hand in his hair and the other holding his phone. He seemed to have shed the shirt he was wearing earlier. He peeked over his phone and smiled. His smile deeply contrasted the frown on your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t let him say anything, and wordlessly got into the bed next to him, curling up on his side. He dropped his phone on the bed and pulled you closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t deal with the sand after all?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed. “I’m not here to prove your point, I’m just here because I need a nice night of sleep in a bed that’s not in a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you keep this up, I’m going to kick George out of his room and make him join you instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He protested and you laughed at him. You weren’t sure why you weren’t nervous. You felt like you should’ve been. It was the first time you’d slept in someone else’s bed before. Despite that, you didn’t feel anything. Not nervous, not anxious, just...comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were wrapped up in his arms, and you realized that it was the first time you and Clay cuddled. It was great. You both got under the covers and held each other, not saying a word. He was hugging around your waist, face in the crevice of your neck. You fell asleep in minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, when you woke up, you had forgotten where you fell asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing you noticed was the light that came in through the window. You blinked a few times; first to wipe the sleep away, and then to focus your eyes. The first thing you saw was a back. Then you realized that your arms were around Clay’s waist, but he wasn’t facing you. You found yourself spooning him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it wasn’t exactly spooning, considering he was much larger than you. The correct term was ‘jet-packing,’ where the taller person is the little spoon. You laughed to yourself, realizing that you were the big spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as you were actually awake, Clay woke up not long after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stretched his back out, and twisted in your arms to face you. His hand landed on your hip, covered by the blanket, and he traced circles there with his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled sleepily at him through eyes that were still heavy from your recent snooze. “Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, yourself. How did you sleep?” Clay asked, sleep very apparent in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His morning voice made the butterflies sleeping in your stomach flutter awake. “I slept very well, thank you.” You said. He brought his nose down to yours, booping it. Then he kissed you softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sat up after a few moments of holding each other, fluffing out that hair that was flat on one side from sleeping on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned at him. “Are we not going to acknowledge the fact that I woke up as the big spoon?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay paused right as he was standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tipped your head at him, nudging him to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” He began, but stopped. He dropped his head into his hands and began laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dream’s a bottom, confirmed?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> You said in a mocking tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not denying it!” You countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped back onto the bed and trapped you between his arms. You were too busy laughing to give him a reaction. He was inches away from you, grinning as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise you,” Clay whispered in your ear, “I’m not a bottom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You replied, mocking his tone from the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, do you need me to prove it or something?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Let them wonder.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I might just need a demonstration,” You murmured, staring at his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, I can provide.” He smirked, leaning in. He left a bruising kiss on your lips, which you returned with just as much fervor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled away, he tugged away the blanket that was dividing the two of you. Only the thin layers of your clothing separated your skin from his. You breathed out a slightly shaky breath, not used to the heat you felt all over. Your hands moved from where they were lying to rest against his bare chest. The muscles there were firm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay left rough, wet kisses down your neck, starting right behind your ear. He stopped at your collarbone, where he bit lightly at the soft skin. His teeth were sharp and you gasped quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away. “You okay?” Clay asked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled in return and continued the kiss. His hand, the one that wasn’t supporting his weight, was traveling down your body, stopping at your hip, where he squeezed. You brought your arms around his neck and smiled into the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as you wanted to continue, an ache in your stomach made you pull your lips off of his. “D’you-” You started, but were cut off by Clay’s lips pressing firmly against yours. You pulled back, as much as you could with him pinning you to his bed. “Do you want to get breakfast? I’m starving.” You were beginning to regret not eating dinner last night, before going to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather stay here, honestly.” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m hungry,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held himself up on one arm, leaning over you. “What do you want to eat? I’ll order it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” You said. You pushed him off of you. “I told you before that I’m teaching you how to cook, and that still hasn’t happened yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned and flopped onto his side of the bed. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to learn how to cook, though,” He whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are twenty one years old! You need to know how to cook </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Because you’re so rich that you can afford take-out for every meal? Or your mum brings you food every time you ask?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pursed his lips. “...yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay, you’re ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see what’s ridiculous about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to need to know how to take care of yourself eventually,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me when. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re spoiled,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” He defended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sighed and finally gave in. “Fine. Fine. What are we making today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled him out of bed, after he put on a shirt, of course, and dragged him down the stairs to investigate the food situation. In the kitchen, you actually found food. When you noticed that it was stocked, you gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clay rolled his eyes. “My parents went shopping while we were in Clearwater. Per your request, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rifled through the cupboards and eventually found pancake mix. You asked Clay, who was awkwardly standing next to you, to find a bowl and a big spoon. After getting all of the ingredients out, you hopped onto the center island and sat, telling him what to do like you were Remi the rat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay actually did very well! That is, until it got to the flipping part. You had to step in there, because the first ones were about to burn. After a couple, he took over and figured it out. Some didn’t look...great...but he tried his best, and that’s all that matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ended up making about a dozen or so pancakes together for you and the boys who were still sleeping. You wondered how they hadn’t woken up yet, considering the amount of noise coming from the kitchen. Most of the screaming was coming from Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George jumped up next to you on the counter when he came in after </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>waking up. He scrolled through his phone, and you could see him blinking slowly, eyes heavy, as if he were still asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat down at the table with your pancakes, pouring the syrup over them, and took a bite. Clay sat down across from you and began to eat as well. They weren’t horrible, considering it was basically you who made them, but some of them were a bit too crisp for your liking, thanks to Clay for refusing to flip them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Patches?” Nick suddenly asked, walking into the room behind George. You realized at that moment that you hadn’t seen her since getting home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay raised an eyebrow at Nick. “With my parents. They’ve been watching her since we left. Did you think I left her here alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When is she coming back?” Nick asked, a pout on his face. You didn’t peg Nick as a cat person, but here he was, whining to see Patches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later today, I think. Mom’s dropping her and Terra off at some point.” Clay pulled out his phone, presumably to check his texts. His eyes skimmed over it for several seconds. “Yeah, sometime later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These actually aren’t bad.” George said, stabbing his fork into his pancakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you!” You smiled at your brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me-” Clay said, holding a hand out at you, and said to George, “I made these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My recipe. My instructions.” You said. “Also, I flipped them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You flipped two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you wouldn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ladies,” Nick said, one hand on Clay’s arm and the other on yours. “More important things to discuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such as?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Streamer things. You’re not invited.” Nick responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gaped at him. “Excuse me? Rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re joining </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Karl Jacobs on stream today. Around 4, I think.” George said. He pushed his plate forward, finished with his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rested your chin on your palm. “So, how is that going to work? Three different computers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so, we all have our own computers set up in our own rooms,” Clay explained. “We’re not going to all be in the same room. That would be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chaotic.” George finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loud.” Nick added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable,” You laughed. They were all loud on stream separately. You couldn’t imagine that much concentrated chaos in one room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay pulled his headphones off and sighed. “That was fun,” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Sounds like it.” You teased from the couch. You were lying on your stomach, chin held up in your palms, in Clay’s recording studio, watching as he joined Karl on stream. George and Nick were both downstairs still. You made sure to be quiet, but Clay occasionally muted to tell you what was going on or make a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had only been about an hour, but you weren’t bored. You could have watched him stream for many more. Plus, you’d asked to be there, so you couldn’t really complain. Anything was better than sitting alone in your room, or God forbid-watching George stream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you not bored?” Clay inquired, spinning around in his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a lot of fun, just sitting here,” You said. And you weren’t lying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but how?” He asked. “I’d be bored out of my fucking mind, just watching without playing for like an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” You laughed. “Well, I grew up with an older brother. I’m used to watching.” Sometimes, you’d preferred it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around and clicked his computer off, sending the room into near darkness. It was only illuminated by the faint green light that pulsed from his keyboard. He stood up and made his way over to you; a short walk from his desk to the couch in the small room. You spun around to lay on your back on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put one hand on the back of the couch, leaning down over you. You lifted your chin up and met his lips with yours. He cupped the back of your head with one large hand. He was still leaning over you, awkwardly. You pulled yourself up into a seated position and he sat down as well, lips not detaching once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay moved his hands to your hips and pulled you toward him, straddling him on the couch. You laughed nervously and pulled away a few centimeters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You still weren’t used to being able to kiss him whenever you wanted. Your fear of being walked in on was overwhelming a part of your stomach. “I don’t know-” You started, but hesitated when Clay kissed your neck, pulling you flush against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away, just barely enough to whisper in your ear. “You know it’s soundproofed in here. You don’t have to be shy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You paused, looking around at the soundproof panels that lined every wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He asked against the soft skin of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” You agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head popped up from the crevice of your neck he was hiding in. He was grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” He asked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes at his eagerness and raised an eyebrow at him, though you knew he could barely see you. “Yes. But not for long; George and Nick are probably going to wonder what we’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let them wonder.” Clay laughed. He bit his lip and brushed his nose against yours before his lips met yours again. You could feel him still grinning into the kiss. His thumbs were sure to leave indents in your hips, the way he was firmly holding you against his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands only let go for a brief moment to snake their way underneath your shirt. They didn’t travel further than you were comfortable with, though, and stopped just around your waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips weren’t tentative anymore, like they had been during many of your previous kisses. His definitely weren’t. He was turning up the intensity with every second that passed by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You locked your fingers in his hair, pulling lightly as you did so. When you pulled away, Clay sucked in a breath and sighed it out slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss and smiled. He squeezed your sides and leaned up into you. His lips were so soft, and he was so very tempting. Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers dug into your sides once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was overwhelming. You didn’t think that someone could affect you like this, but you were completely intoxicated just by his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a change in the room suddenly and you heard a swinging sound. The first thing you noticed was the light that entered. Then you realized that the sound you heard was the door opening. Clay’s hands froze immediately, and you were suddenly feeling very lucky you’d stopped him from taking your shirt off just moments before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s eyes were locked on the door, but you were too nervous to look at the infiltrator. You dropped your head onto his shoulder, embarrassed to be caught </span>
  <em>
    <span>once more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard a clatter on the floor, behind you, and decided that it was time to look at who it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra was standing there, eyes wide in utter shock. On the floor in front of her, was a fork she’d dropped. Luckily, the bowl holding whatever food she was eating was still in her other hand. She looked down at the fork she dropped and then back up to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a single word, she switched the lock on the inner side of the door and pulled it shut. You heard her footsteps down the hall as she scurried away, probably quite embarrassed as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped your head to Clay’s shoulder again, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do we get caught </span>
  <em>
    <span>every single time </span>
  </em>
  <span>we try to snog?” You complained, but it was mostly muffled by Clay’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea. I must’ve used up all of my good luck on my speedruns-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You leaned your head back, laughing. “Shut the fuck up, Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s probably true!” He laughed in response.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Protective, if anything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Terra hurried down the stairs, the bowl of pasta clutched in her hands. When she got to the bottom of the steps, she dropped the bowl in a clatter on the kitchen table. All she wanted to do was say hello to her brother...not...walk in on him making out with his friend’s sister. Talk about fucked up. She huffed out a breath and plopped onto the recliner closest to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t want food?” Nick asked her from the other couch, where he sat sprawled out, phone in one hand, fork in the other. George was sitting next to him, eating as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Terra said sharply. Her eyes avoided Nick’s and George’s, who were staring at her curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s strange.” George commented. “He said he was hungry when we were streaming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teenager shrugged and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Nick asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Terra said sharply. “I guess he’s busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Busy?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Texan mused. “What do you mean by that, Ter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Also, don’t call me that, idiot.” She snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick cocked his head in amusement at his friend’s younger sister who was attempting to beat him in his own game of sass, but ultimately decided that whatever was going on upstairs was more interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his fork back into the bowl and stood up. “I’m going to go investigate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t?” He turned his head toward the 14 year old, eyebrows raised. “Don’t go up there? Why not? Did you see something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why’d you say ‘don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her mouth and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “I warned you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George decided that whatever was going on upstairs was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>his problem and continued eating while scrolling Twitter. Nick climbed the many stairs up to the second floor and paused at the door to Clay’s recording room. He silently put his ear against the door and heard faint speaking. He lifted his hand to the knob and tried to open the door, but found that it was locked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” He said to himself. He shook the knob violently, shouting through the door, “There better not be sinning going on behind this door!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a slight amount of rustling on the other side, and then a moment later, the door opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You flinched from your comfortable seat atop Clay’s lap when the doorknob began shaking, and then jumped out of your skin when you heard Nick’s voice on the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There better not be sinning going on behind his door!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You sent a tired look at Clay and awkwardly maneuvered yourself from his lap. He rolled his eyes back, but gave you a reassuring smile that made you feel a bit better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He switched the lock off and swung the door open, staring at Nick expectantly. You were adjusting your shirt when your eyes locked with Nick’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, my suspicions were correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and?” Clay nodded, already unamused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really leaving the boys hanging to fuck around-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no.” You watched Clay’s eyes narrow-was that anger? He lowered his voice, tone suddenly serious. “We don’t...get a lot of time together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it. I do. Next time, fuckin’ invite me or something. I was stuck with George, downstairs-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed, understanding the need to get away from George at times, but Clay’s face didn’t show the same amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not invited.” Clay said. His serious composure dropped when Patches walked up to him, stretching up his leg. He picked her up and pressed his face against hers before nestling the cat in one arm. “Hello, baby,” Clay greeted Patches in a cutesy tone, a very different demeanor than when speaking to Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N,” Nick looked past Clay, at you. “Was the stream fun for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tipped your head to the side. “I had fun watching,” You said. It was an entertaining stream. You were able to recognize most of the people there, which was new for you. Before the trip, you knew barely of your brother’s friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Oh, you like watching?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your smile faltered as the implications of that question wash through you. “I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” Clay said to his friend. His posture was stiff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, man. Don’t worry about it.” Nick responded. The tension between them was suddenly more intense than your typical tension with Clay.  “I’m going to go back downstairs. Your sister wanted to say hi, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be down in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick nodded and left. Clay set down Patches, who promptly ran from the room, and held out his hand. You took it and he pulled you up from the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed a kiss against your lips and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a bit strange.” You commented, not letting him drag you out of the room yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just being Nick.” Clay rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was talking about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seemed…” You thought about what to say next, but decided against it. “Nevermind. Let’s go downstairs.” You were going to say jealous, but to be honest, jealous was a light term for what you saw. It looked like Clay was about to give Nick the sickest uppercut he’d ever seen in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed your phone, putting it in your pocket, and followed him back downstairs, joining Nick on the couch, where he was already busy on his phone. He gave you a light smile, but didn’t look up. Terra was making direct eye-contact with her phone and no one else. George was sitting on a chair with his legs over the arm, distracted by something on the television.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you noticed Nick was open to his text messages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay, next to you, put his arm around you and dropped his head on your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing now?” George asked, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed. “Preferably something lowkey.” After the several overwhelming days at the beach, staying at home didn’t seem like such a bad plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sick of staring at a screen.” George complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what we do for a living. What would you rather do instead?” Nick asked, throwing his arm over the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could go to a drive-in theater tonight.” Clay suggested. “I know it’s still early, and it doesn’t start for another couple hours if we go to the extra-late showings, but I think it’d be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s playing?” Nick asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Howl’s Moving Castle</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Bride</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Classics,” Your brother commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m down.” Nick said. George agreed. Terra stayed silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You agreed, but added, “If we’re going to go, I should change,” You were still in your pajamas, and the sun was going down soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick snorted from next to you. “Make sure to lock your fucking door this time. I don’t want to walk in on something I’d really rather not see, again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were about to respond with something witty, as you usually did when Nick spoke to you, but Clay beat you to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his head off of your shoulder. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘again’?” His green eyes were burning holes into Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George and Terra were both staring from the other side of the room, eyes wide at the three of you sitting on the couch together, you in the middle, physically and metaphorically. You froze, realizing that this was going to add to Clay’s jealousy list that was growing every time Nick opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By ‘again,’ I mean Y/N didn’t lock her door the other day. Exactly what I just said. And I saw something I </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t want to see,” Nick defended, not looking too eager for a fight with the blond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s jaw was clenched. He was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay?” You asked stiffly. “Can we go talk about something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and walked into the hall where your room was, entering without a word. You closed the door behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay paced back and forth, staring at the floor. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers running along the seams of the blanket, trying to focus on the feeling beneath your hands, rather than the anger you felt rising in your chest. Something to distract you from blowing up on him. Something to ground you. You weren’t mad at him-well, yeah, you kind of were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Clay muttered, hands in his hair, eyes still trained on the floor. He didn’t say it to you, just at the situation, you guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being jealous.” You said at last. You’d been sitting in silence for too long. “You’ve been jealous of Nick for days. I don’t know why-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay scoffed. “Jealous? Protective,” He defended. “If anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jealous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought, but didn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came over to you, running his hands up your arms. “I just...don’t want him to touch you. Or talk to you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled out of his grasp and stood up to face him. “Oh, because you’re so much better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?” Clay asked, a scowl crossing his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many-how many fucking times did you put your hands on me after I asked you not to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N, we had already kissed at that point-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I asked you not to!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I told you it wasn’t the right time and you ignored me. You pushed me, too much, too fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” He dropped into the seat behind him. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat back down on the bed, several feet away. You ran both of your hands through your hair, exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Clay sighed. “I’m just-fuck, I don’t know. Insecure, sometimes, I guess,” He mumbled. “I read it wrong. The situation. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed out an angry breath. There was heat rising from your lungs into your throat, and the pressure in your chest made you feel like you were going to burst. You felt bad for blowing up, but it was about damn time. It’d been festering in you for the whole week. “I told you-fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>George told you that it wasn’t allowed. And you kissed me anyway. I pushed you away every time you tried something, Clay. How did you read that wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you want to be with me?” He whispered. He got up and you moved away slightly, but he just moved to the bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did-I still do! But, Clay, I told you that it was too fast. I told you that I was waiting for George’s answer. I wanted to be with you but I didn’t want to bother him and you didn’t fucking listen to me.” You watched for his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused for a moment, before sighing. He shook his head. “That’s my fault, 100%. I’ll admit to that. And, you know what else I’ll admit to?” He said. You paused. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>jealous of Nick. I’m jealous of the way you talk to him, and-and how close you immediately were with him. I’m jealous of the way he makes you laugh, because I wish that it was me. I’m jealous of that time he called you ‘his woman,’ that one time because you’re mine.” You raised your eyebrows at him, so far unimpressed with his speech, but it was getting there. “I’m jealous of how you were texting the whole drive to Clearwater, and that you were looking at memes together on the way back, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to be the one to make you giggle like that. I’m jealous that when you got approached at the beach, you texted him first and not me. I’m jealous of your banter and the stupid shit you say together. And I’m not even going to talk about when he walked in on you changing.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Then his eyes met yours. He was in pain, laying on the bed in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You appreciated his honesty, but you weren’t over the fact that he glossed over the whole consent-thing you were trying to explain to him. “That doesn’t change the fact that the whole first week of this, you didn’t fucking listen to a thing I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. I-I thought it was okay.” He was playing the role of the dumb male. To be fair, he was probably not joking. He was probably just oblivious. “I thought your reactions were just exasperated because you liked the teasing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed. “I’m serious, Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’m such a fucking idiot,” He groaned. “I’m so sorry.” He rolled closer to you and grabbed your thigh, looking up at you. You watched the realization cross his face when it registered to him where his hand was, and he shyly removed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckled sadly. “I just wanted an apology from before. You don’t have to stop yourself anymore,” You huffed, raising an eyebrow at him. “We’re kind of dating now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case,” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling his face into your side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let him lay there for a moment while you stroked his hair. The discussion was one that you’d wanted to have for a while, and I mean, better late than never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe let’s go let the others know that we haven’t killed each other,” You suggested, an eyebrow raised in amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay nodded and detached from your side, getting up. He opened the door and you laughed as you saw Nick, George, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Terra walking away from the door inconspicuously, as if they’d just been listening in on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey,” Clay said to the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick turned around. “Hey-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” The blond asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...if we’re seeing that movie tonight, we should get snacks-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snacks?” You said from behind Clay. You peeked your head out of the door and saw Nick staring curiously at the two of you. “We can go get snacks, really quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Text us what you want,” Clay said, walking out of the room and toward the front of the house. You shut your door and changed quickly into something comfortable to wear to the store and joined Clay at the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what Bug Juice is?” He asked, a lopsided puppy-dog smile on his face.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. That's why is called 'Bug Juice.'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hi! This chapter gets a teeny bit steamier than the other scenes. No clothes are taken off, nothing super crazy happens.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What the hell is Bug Juice?” You asked, eyes flicking to his in a mix of concern and amusement. You watched Nick and George’s concerned faces as you walked away, but focused back on Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the front door for you and let you go first. “It’s-uh, it’s a kids drink. Really sugary, kind of tastes like acid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no...bugs in it, right?” You asked as you walked through the threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course there are. That’s why it’s called ‘Bug Juice.’” He said, as though it was obvious. He opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got inside, eyebrows furrowed. When he walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat, you stared. “I-I don’t...want...Bug Juice, Clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so good, trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll just get like a lemonade-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put the key in the ignition and turned the car on. “Y/N, you can’t just come to the U.S. and get lemonade. Bug Juice slaps. And don’t worry, you can’t even taste the bugs.” He reversed out of the driveway, leaving you with a dumbstruck expression on your face, trying to process drinking literal...bug juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You asked several more times about it, on your way to the convenience store, but his story held up the entire way. It switched to another conversation, and then back to Bug Juice when you got into the little store. Clay led you to a wall with an assortment of beverages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the very farthest left side, next to other children’s beverages, was Bug Juice. There were four different flavors; Fruity Punch, Berry Raspberry, Outrageous Orange, and Lemon Lime. None of which sounded...entirely appealing. You glanced up at Clay in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were skeptical. He said it was good, but he was also from Florida, and the taste there was definitely questionable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, you were going to try it, regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” You said hesitantly. “What’s your favorite flavor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an orange kinda guy. Sapnap likes the blue one. I’d assume George is a lemon lime bitch.” You laughed. He was a lemon lime bitch. “I’d say, for you, try the fruit punch one first. It’s a classic. Safe bet, y’know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took the red bottle reluctantly. The bottle had little animated bugs on it. It was cute; definitely made for kids. You followed Clay around the small convenience store, grabbing all of the snacks you could carry in your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” The cashier smiled. Her name tag said, ‘Lauren.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay tipped his head in a nod and began to unload his arms of the snacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I haven’t seen anyone over ten years old buy one of these in months,” The cashier laughed as you put the Bug Juice on the counter. She was pretty. Black hair, slicked back in a neat braid that you were incapable of achieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay sent her a nice smile and inserted his card to pay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking out, you nudged Clay with your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at you. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t know how I feel about drinking Bug Juice…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still on that?” He asked, exasperated. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s just a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bug Juice! Yes!” Clay laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat down in the passenger seat of Clay’s car and rifled through the bag of mixed snacks and beverages. You took out the bottle of Bug Juice and read the label...nowhere on it said anything about bugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You began to list off the ingredients. “Water, citric acid, food starch, glyceryl abietate, natural and artificial flavors, red 40, sodium citrate, concentrated grape juice, concentrated pineapple juice, and concentrated orange juice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay turned the car on with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You punched his arm lightly. “You’ve been fucking with me this whole time?” You asked with an edge to your voice. “This whole fucking time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wheezed, head on his steering wheel, laughing at you, “You think we actually sell </span>
  <em>
    <span>kids drinks </span>
  </em>
  <span>with </span>
  <em>
    <span>bugs </span>
  </em>
  <span>in them?” Clay lifted his head and turned in his seat, giving you a questionable look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were-you were convincing! You Americans are weird. I didn’t know what to believe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a myth. No bugs were harmed in the making of it, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed and sat back in your seat, throwing the sugary beverage back into the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay began the drive back to his house, not of course before nestling his hand firmly in place on your thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled back into the driveway and he stopped you from getting out of the car. As you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, one of Clay’s hands maneuvered itself to your hip and twisted you toward him. His other hand made its way into your hair. Your eyes closed instinctually and you tipped your head back slightly. He took advantage of the access to your neck and nipped lightly at the skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You made a slight noise and pulled away an inch. He used the hand in your hair to pull you closer to him and he pressed his lips into yours. You made no protest and slotted your mouth against his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing him got better every single time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He detached first and kissed the tip of your nose gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go inside.” He suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bit the inside of your cheek and looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Do we have to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” Clay sighed. “George will-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right as though they knew you were talking about them, Nick and George ran out of the house. Nick ran up to your side and wiggled the door handle until you unlocked the door. He yanked the door open and grabbed the bag from where it was resting by your feet and jumped up and down like a toddler. Nick pulled the Bug Juice out of the bag and your suspicions were confirmed; he really was a toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” You said in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not! We’re saving those for the movie!” Clay shouted right before Nick began to drink his beverage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered the juice sadly with a scowl on his face and dropped it back in the bag. “Fine. Buzzkill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t understand the hype-” George started.</span>
</p><p><span>“It’s motherfucking </span><em><span>Bug Juice, </span></em><span>George.”</span> <span>Nick intervened.</span></p><p>
  <span>You got out of Clay’s car at last and hopped inside. Terra was waiting on the couch, staring at her phone. When she heard you come in, she lowered her device and placed a mischievous grin on her face.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Uh oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt insanely guilty that she walked in on you and her brother making out. That was not something either of you would be forgetting soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to meet my mom?” She asked, innocence lacing every word of the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your face fell. “Your...mum...is coming here? Right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, she’s only a few minutes out. Picking me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, you had suspected that you’d meet the family eventually. He relied heavily on his parents for a lot of things. But were you ready? Absolutely-the-fuck-not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. So excited. Very ready.” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra, of course, could smell the anxiety from miles away and just flashed a cocky smile at you. It reminded you of her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard the boys come inside and turned around to see them. Walking in with them was a kind looking woman. You stopped in your tracks, completely frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay walked in, announcing, “So, you’ve talked to George and Nick a few times on the phone, but this is George’s sister, Y/N!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello!” You said, holding a hand out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman-Clay’s mother-shook your hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you, hun. I didn’t know Georgey had a little sister! What a pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did, mom.” Terra interrupted. “I told you about her a couple days ago-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I didn’t know before you came here.” Clay’s mum explained. “Anyways, I’m just here to pick up Terra. I’m sure I’ll see you all again before you leave!” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed lightly. You smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra pushed herself off of the couch and hopped out of the house, giving a quick side hug to Clay as she did so. As she walked backwards outside, she glared at Nick, pointing at him with an angry finger. Then she took that finger and slid it across her throat. You looked at the Texan and found him raising both of his middle fingers at the 14 year old. You chuckled at the bond they’d developed over the last day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill you-” Terra shouted right as the door closed in front of her, her exasperated mother rolling her eyes as she did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You all laughed as soon as the door was shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the warning,” You said, releasing a shaky laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>were dropping her off later.” Clay shrugged. He started toward the stairs. “I’m going to go change into movie-watching clothes. We’re leaving soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are ‘movie-watching clothes’?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay laughed and shrugged. “No fucking clue. I’m just changing. I’ll be down in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You also changed into comfier clothes than you were in and threw on Clay’s hoodie. You somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>had it. You remembered how he slid his hand up your back, a light pressure behind his touch, and asked for it in a low, nearly seductive voice. The thought made you shiver, in a good way of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got stuck in the back of Clay’s car with your brother as Clay drove to where the drive-in was located.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in an old baseball field that wasn’t being used due to the season. The concession stand was selling movie-snacks, like popcorn, hotdogs, candy, and drinks. It was a lovely place, and the falling sun made it that-much-more of a vibe. Surprisingly, it also wasn’t that busy. There was about 20 minutes until the first movie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Princess Bride, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was going to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay and George switched places, allowing you to cuddle up with the blond in the backseat. Once you got comfortable, Nick started messing with the radio, trying to find the right channel to tune into to listen to the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It began eventually, and you were shocked at how well-behaved all of the boys were acting. None of them joked about the film or even teased each other. It was that kind of entrancing movie that kept you enthralled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toward the middle, Clay cracked out the Bug Juice. You took the red drink and popped open the sippy-cup lid. You smelled it. It smelled...well, like a fruit punch children’s drink. You finally took a sip. Clay was staring very intently at you, watching for your reaction. Your face scrunched up when it went down your throat. It wasn’t...bad...but definitely not great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, right?” He asked. He had a puppy-dog look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” You said, taking another drink of the slightly acidic-tasting beverage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed out the rest of the snacks he’d gotten while you went out, and then Nick complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need popcorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then go get some,” Clay scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick whined again. “Could one of you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head and you huffed a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun,” You waved as Clay opened the door. He cocked his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm, you’re coming with.” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m going to stay right here in the nice air conditioned car.” There was no way he was going to drag you out, into the burning Florida night-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay got out of the car and walked around. He opened your side and raised one eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that resolve didn’t last very long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed and stepped out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and grabbed your hand, making the way out of the parking lot and to the concession stand. The sky was dark now, and where you were standing was only lit by one large stadium light that seemed to be on its last breath. It switched off and on several times before resuming at half-power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you got to the front of the line, the employee shook his head, saying they were going to be out of popcorn for at least ten more minutes because they were cleaning the machine. Someone spilled a whole large beverage directly </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the popcorn machine, somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay said he was fine with waiting and dragged you around to the back of the concession stand. You were confused about what he was doing until he pushed you firmly up against the wall of the stand. It was dark. There was no light on this side, and you grabbed blindly at his shirt as you stumbled backwards. Your back hit the hard wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let a light laugh at your momentary panic, but covered it up when he pressed his lips against yours. A hand snuck behind your neck and held you in place. You wrapped both of your arms over his shoulders. It’s not like you were going anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed his body against yours. Due to the height difference, he was leaning over you, crowding you against the wall. You were much too distracted by the pressure of his lips on yours to mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quite a rush, kissing him in such a public place. It was different than at home. Of course, you were afraid of being caught here, but much less so than when it was George who was the one that was doing the walking-in-on. That was terrifying. This was just...exhilarating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand of his that you weren’t aware of snuck up your side. He grasped at the hoodie you wore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>hoodie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay tsked. “Really?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You asked, eyes wide, although you could barely see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hoodie. It’s like 80 degrees-” You stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, that means nothing to me. Second of all, I’m wearing it because it smells like you. Not because I’m cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffed a laugh and shrugged. “Alright, then.” He said, and leaned back in to continue kissing you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was short lived, because an old man smoking a cigarette came walking around the corner. He shouted at the two of you and Clay quickly pushed you around the other side of the concession stand, laughing the whole way like you were teenagers again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time you got back in line, still giggling about the whole affair, the machine was cleaned and you got fresh popcorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The movie was great, just like how you remembered it being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway through </span>
  <em>
    <span>Howl’s Moving Castle, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the second feature of the night, you, your brother, and Clay were all yawning. Nick was wide awake, so Clay asked him to drive back. He switched places with George and got in the driver’s seat, starting the drive home. You were sad to leave the movie early, because it was a great one, but you were dead tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay was lying down, head tucked in your lap, nearly asleep the whole way home. You were leaning against the frame of the car, almost passing out to the soft mumblings of Nick and George from the front of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to wake Clay up when Nick pulled the car into the driveway, about twenty minutes later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stirred for a moment, but just tightened his grasp on you. You shook him again, saying, “C’mon, we gotta get inside. It’s bedtime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grumbled and swung his body up. He yawned once more and smiled dozily at you. “Good morning,” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. “Let’s go inside.” Nick and George were already inside the house, long gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He complained, but eventually you led him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stopped him at the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight, if that’s okay with you.” You smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather you-” He yawned. “I’d rather you join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know. But I probably shouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t protest too much, considering how tired he was, and hobbled up the stairs after only a bit more convincing. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face. You felt so lucky. He was such a good guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in your room, you put on a light pair of pajamas (keeping Clay’s hoodie on, of course) and got in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, you froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was still fucking sand in your bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed out a deep breath and put your head in your hands, deciding what to do next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to wash your sheets, at least. You got up, already frustrated and tired, and yanked them off of the bed. You brought the blanket with you as well, because, might as well. You also didn’t want to interrupt Clay. He was probably already sleeping, anyways, and you already told him you’d be sleeping by yourself tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trudging out of your room, covered in the swaddle of your bedspread, you made your way to where you remembered the laundry room to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a few problems, immediately, you realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Number one was that you did not know which machine was which. They were stacked next to each other. There were two of them. At home, you only had a washer. Number two, the knobs were all different, as were the words. It was like reading Greek. You had no idea what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set the sheets down on the floor after several minutes of not knowing what to do and exited the laundry room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as you did you, you heard a noise coming from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were asleep,” You commented, leaning against the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I thought you were asleep.” Clay responded, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. He sounded much more awake than he was ten minutes ago. “What are you doing, awake?” He asked, turning around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tipped your head back, laughing. “I’m having a brawl with your washing machine at the moment. There’s still sand in my sheets and I have absolutely no idea how to work the bloody thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know how to use a fucking washer?” He teased. You rolled your eyes. “Would you like help?” He queried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might be best,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a drink from the water and set it down, quickly forgetting about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked into the laundry room first, followed by Clay. You were very surprised when he pushed you against the door as he closed it, crowding you against it suddenly. He was holding the doorknob in his left hand and pressing against the door with the other. You stepped back, hitting it with your back and reliving nearly the same experience from a few hours ago against the concession stand, sans the creepy man with the cigarette that yelled at you to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t nervous this time. Slightly unstable from being so exhausted, but not nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was inches from yours, searching for a reaction to his sudden display. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, there, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He probably wanted you to blush or get flustered, but you were so used to his constant displays of affection by now that it was nothing new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh, uh.” Clay shook his head. “This is...like, redemption for leaving me hanging in the garage.” You dropped your head against his chest and laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The garage. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed like so long ago. The first time Clay tried to kiss you. Of course, you avoided it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought a hand under your chin and lifted it for you to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The garage?” You repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I see a few similarities. You’re wearing my hoodie again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One thing that did change, though,” Clay was staring at your lips. You stared back at his. “Is that it finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the right time. And now that I have the opportunity, I’m going to take it every chance I get. Right now, included. And every opportunity until you get back on a plane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I can live with that,” You bit your tongue. You couldn’t stop the heat rushing to your face, and it especially didn’t help when he picked you up and twisted you around to sit on the washing machine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed himself between your legs. You were at the perfect height to kiss him, no more awkward bending or awkward angles. Your lips fit together perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you kept them resting them around his neck. He had somehow snuck his hands under the hoodie you wore while he was moving you, and his cold hands were squeezing your waist, leaving indents with his fingers in your sides. You arched your back at his cool touch and ended up just closer to him. He pulled you against him, trying desperately to get even closer than he already was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt the pressure of his hands lower until one was wrapped fully around your waist. You couldn’t get any more flush against him. The other hand became tangled in your hair. He balled his hand into a fist and pulled your hair. Usually he was gentle, but not this time. You gasped against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth molded to yours perfectly. When you pulled away, he bit your bottom lip and pulled you back into him. You automatically leaned back in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The washing machine below you creaked and shifted, not used to the weight, but you were so distracted that you barely heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arm that was around your waist dropped a bit lower, into territory he had not discovered thus far. Your arms fell from around his neck to his waist. You pulled him in by his belt loops-for some reason, he was still wearing jeans-trying to get even a slight bit closer to him. Your hands touched something cold and Clay tensed suddenly. You quickly realized it was the buckle on his belt, to which you quickly removed your hands, pulling them up to your chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled his lips off of yours, though you weren’t sure how. You could not have possessed yourself to stop kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at your hands and smiled softly at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” He grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not nerv-” You stopped abruptly when the fingers laced through your hair tugged once more. “That’s not fair.” You reprimanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not exactly known to be a fair person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell,” You murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plus, I still need to get you back for calling me a bottom this morning.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. I'm in love with him.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Unblinking, your eyes were focused on the screen of the laptop in front of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gamer posture much?” Clay teased. Your eyes snapped from the monitor to him and you awkwardly straightened your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” You mumbled and pulled your chair up, adjusting it to the new position, posture a bit better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sunday now. You and Clay...forgot about putting your sheets in the laundry last night, so you ended up just sleeping in his room again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begged you to play Minecraft with him, which you weren’t about to deny. You were sitting at Clay’s desk in his room, while Nick was sitting on Clay’s bed, eyes focused on his phone, and George was on the floor, legs crossed with Patches in his lap. He seemed very excited that the cat was finally paying attention to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were playing on a quick realm he set up, just for the two of you, on his spare gaming laptop while he played on his PC next to you. You were advancing pretty quickly, which you were proud of. Of course, half of the iron in your inventory was provided by him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were in a mine, searching for diamonds. You were racing with Clay, and determined to find them first. He was strip mining, and you were in a cave at diamond level, so you had a better chance than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hopped around quickly. Right as you were about to high-tail out of that cave system and look for another one, something glinted in the corner of your screen. You turned your character toward it and noticed that it wasn’t diamonds, but an emerald ore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You paused. Your eyes flickered to your right hand, where the beautiful emerald ring Clay had purchased for you in Clearwater sat, staring back at you. You hadn’t taken it off since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You mined the emerald quickly, and continued on your adventure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, he did manage to find diamonds first, just seconds before you did. He exclaimed loudly as soon as he picked them up and the achievement appeared. You glared back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because you’re a speedrunner-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because I’m better, actually,” He countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You mocked him and rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meet me at our base?” He asked. Said base was a small wooden shack in the middle of a plains biome. He wanted it to be made out of dirt,</span>
  <em>
    <span> ever the interior designer, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he eventually compromised on wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You collected the diamonds you had found and got out of the dark cave, running quickly away from a skeleton who had just spawned next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entrance to the cave was pretty close to the base and you beat him there. You waited patiently, watching as his nametag approached closer and closer. His green character appeared just a moment later, holding the diamonds in his hands. He dropped them on your character and you laughed. You now had seven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You decided to throw the emerald down in front of him, like a trade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay paused, grin faltering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found natural emeralds?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” You nodded. You shifted and punched his character.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George spoke up from his place on the floor. “Emerald ore is more rare than diamonds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you gave me an emerald,” You said, lifting your hand with the ring for a moment. “I thought I should give you one too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay had said nothing since his first question. He was focused on his screen. You looked over and noticed he was just staring at the emerald in his inventory. There were several moments of silence before he said, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” You responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You went back to playing Minecraft, and Clay tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t completely and utterly warmed by the gem you found for him, but it was pretty obvious. He had a silly grin on his face the rest of the time you played together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I teach you PVP now?” George asked from across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You agreed and let George pull up a seat next to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next hour was spent with George screaming and holding himself back from grabbing the mouse out of your hand, while Nick continued to shout from behind you, and Clay killing you. Many times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried your best, but even with all of the help you had from George and Nick, you didn’t kill him even once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got close one time. You might’ve cheated, but he deserved it after killing you fourteen times in a row. George had moved to the bed when Clay told him to take a step back halfway through, and when you were down on two hearts, you decided to take a risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slid your foot up the back of his calf, caressing it. His sentence was cut off, right in the middle of whatever backhanded comment he was making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey now,” Clay mumbled, eyes moving to the floor to see what kind of witchcraft you were committing. He pointed downwards. “That’s cheating. That’s not allowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smirked and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer to you. Your lips grazed his ear, and you whispered, low enough that no one else but him would hear. “‘Don’t you see? The fact that I’m not allowed just makes it oh-so-much more tempting.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to recognize it, judging by his reaction. Clay’s back straightened and he bit his lip. “Really? You’re quoting</span>
  <em>
    <span> me</span>
  </em>
  <span> now? That’s not fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘I’m not exactly known to be a fair person.’” You mocked, still quiet so the boys wouldn’t hear you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the quick moment you had distracted him, you also got him down to half a heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, as soon as he realized, he killed you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not fair-” He said again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t respond, just looked up at him and winked, like he had done so many times to you, and then went back to the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, you rage quit after repeatedly losing to him. You thought he’d go easy on you for at least one round, but boy, if that man had one thing, it was the audacity. Clay insisted for one more round, but you denied. George stuck around for a bit to fight him in your place, but Nick followed you out of the room. You heard the clear sound of the blond protesting, but he stayed put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You threw yourself onto the couch downstairs and Nick sat down as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick caught your eyes and quirked his eyebrows. You stifled a laugh as you looked back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick somehow knew how to make you crack up without words. You were sad he was leaving tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to play chess?” Nick asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head popped up. That came out of nowhere. “Absolutely-the-fuck-not,” You retorted, raising both eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afraid I’ll beat you?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got out of your seat and hopped over to the kitchen. “Yes, actually. George used to kick my ass in chess. I never got over it. I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> get over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, no chess. No Minecraft. We’ve already established that you suck at it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all literally professionals,” You interrupted, poking your head back into the living room where Nick was sitting still. “I’ve played for fun. The closest I’ve gotten to PVP was a bedwars lobby, and I just had to fight the </span>
  <em>
    <span>infamous Dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t give me that bullshit; it was hard.” You threatened, but laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Nick rolled his eyes. “So are you and Clay, like, dating now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed a granola bar out of the cupboard and peeked around the corner. “I mean...I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” You munched on the snack. “He got permission. We’ve been snogging and cuddling, so I’d think so,” You ignored the faux look of disgust on his face as you said so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has he asked you out?” Nick asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want to be your boyfriend.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clay said once during a tense discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A rock couldn’t show you how desperately I want you to be mine,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He said another time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He said after giving you the emerald ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The way he pushed you, yes. Teased, for sure. But he never meant to hurt you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The way he kissed your nose gently when you were watching the sunset together on the end of the pier, the night before leaving.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The way he-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You realized in that moment that you didn’t just love him- “I’m in love with him.” You said simply. It wasn’t a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick gave you a look. You almost thought he was going to say something sweet, but then you remembered that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nick </span>
  </em>
  <span>you were talking to. “First of all, you didn’t answer the question. Second of all, that’s-well, that’s fucking gross, Y/N. Don’t talk about that wholesome shit in front of me </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoffed out a laugh. “Excuse me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull this shit with me again and I’m gonna knock you the fuck out, I swear,” He started, but began to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than twenty-four hours later, Nick had his luggage tucked next to him as he awkwardly stood in the airport, pushing his fringe out of his eyes with one hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a tight smile to the group and peeked behind him at the security gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got like, two minutes before I’ve gotta go through. Would’ve been longer, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He glared at George, “Took too long getting ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” George said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d stayed up all night binging some show with Clay and Nick and fell asleep mid-day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all good.” Nick sighed. “I’m going to miss you guys,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to miss you too,” Clay said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you can’t stay for the last week and a half?” George asked, and whispered, “I’m going to be stuck in a house with these two for the next ten days. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please stay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Admit it, George,” You laughed. “You’re glad I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched your brother sigh and cock his head to the side, contemplating. “Debatable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoved him with your shoulder and laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m certainly glad-” Clay started. He was interrupted by both George and Nick gagging at his comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick pulled Clay and George into a group hug. When they split, he locked eyes with you and dropped his head to one side. Your bottom lip dropped in a pout. “I’m going to miss you,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooped you into a massive bearhug, lifting you off your feet. “You too, bubs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck did you call m-” You started, but got cut off by Nick whispering in your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, if he hurts you, I’ll take him out. One word and he’s gone. I gotchu. Don’t even worry about it.” Such a big-brother, even if he was younger than you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if the occasion ever presents itself, I’ll let you know. But, I think I’ll be just fine.” You smiled, making eye contact with Clay over Nick’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you liked this chapter! Leave a comment if you'd like! Please do, in fact! I need validation!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. It's fine. It's not weird.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>George asked Nick once more if he could stay, but Nick shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got school starting up soon. Also, my mom misses me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right before Nick walked to security, he patted the top of your head. You tried not to tear up, though you didn’t know where the tears were coming from. Why were you getting so emotional? In all fairness, Nick had proved to be a great friend over the last week and a half, and was definitely the funniest person you’d ever met. Without him, you would not have had the guts to go after Clay. He definitely pushed you toward the blond, which was much needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next week and a half...was going to be interesting. In all honesty, you felt a bit bad for George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in the car, you sat in the backseat, head tipped back on the headrest. The sun was bright in the middle of the sky and George and Clay were speaking animatedly in the front seat. You tried not to pay too much attention to what they were talking about, as you knew most of it was going to go over your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You envied their friendship. All of their friendships, in fact, including Nick. They’d always had each other. They didn’t need anyone else. You had friends, yes, but nothing that compared to the whole dumbassness that exuded from the boys and the forever-bond they had together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned and stared out of the window as the both of them shouted, either shouting </span>
  <em>
    <span>at </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>one another, you couldn’t tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was suddenly silence throughout the car, and you looked up curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was turned around in his seat, staring at you. Your eyes also locked with Clay’s, which were looking at you from the rear view mirror. You glanced back and forth between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both erupted into laughter, a cacophony that you were surprisingly happy to hear. It’d been a while since they both laughed this hard together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you-” George laughed, but got interrupted by Clay laughing louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you just been tuning us out, this whole time?” Clay wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes were wide, and you were afraid to answer. You nodded your head slowly once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay hit the steering wheel with one hand, laughing still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were talking to you,” George said. “Or, I guess, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the last few minutes,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed it was something streaming related.” You justified. “Y’know that I tune the two of you out </span>
  <em>
    <span>most times</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re talking to each other, right?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyways, what were you saying?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just wanted to know if you wanted to watch some Harry Potter tonight,” Your brother said finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned. “Of course,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, you drummed your hands on the couch, waiting for Clay to start the next movie. George had retired to his room to sleep midway through the Order of the Phoenix, the fifth Harry Potter movie, so you were left in the downstairs movie room alone with Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On your lap, Patches was curled up. She had been there for an hour by this point and had no intention of getting up. You were more than willing to accommodate her, as well, and stayed still for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay reached a hand over and scratched under her chin and the cat began purring. The hum reverberated through your legs and into your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you were staring at the feline, Clay tipped your chin up with a gentle raise of his hand and your eyes locked with his in the dark. Your lips met together in a soft kiss. Your kissing was definitely disturbing Patches’ nap, and she stood up, stretching. You pulled away and tried to get her to stay but she protested and hopped away. You pouted and pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches stretched each limb as she climbed away, onto Clay’s open lap. Your jaw dropped open in offense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was enjoying a nice cuddle with her,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Now she’s cuddling with me. She’s my cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised an eyebrow and he frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clay said. “Nope.” He booped your nose. “Patches is not coming home with you. I’m sorry. She’s mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared at the cat. “We’ll see,” You said. You were going to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to put her in your suitcase on your last day in Florida. How that would go, only time could tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches eventually decided that even Clay’s lap was not a worthy-enough throne, so she bounded out of the room. You heard the little pitter-patter of her feet on each step as she went up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay clicked play and pulled you into him, positioning you to be cuddled under his arm, head on his chest. His arm was locked around you tightly, and you listened to the beating of his heart as you watched the movie together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blanket covered your cold legs, which had only been kept warm by Patches for the last hour. Clay used his other hand to trace little patterns into your freezing legs, but it only made the goosebumps that rose on your skin even more prominent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers with his. His thumb began caressing the back of your hand and you smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time spent like this, you knew, was going to be pretty rare pretty soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to ask you a question this morning...but you weren’t in your room,” George said, the next day. You were tying your hair up, about to make breakfast. “You wake up early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips pursed in embarrassment and turned to look out the window, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t know by now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been...sleeping in Clay’s room. For the last few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” George tipped his head to the side. “Oh,” He said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed, “I know it’s still weird for you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. It’s fine. It’s not weird. At all, I promise.” George smiled, shaking his head. It was a tight grin that you read easily. He was lying. But, at least he was trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could tell he was trying. He didn’t glare at Clay every time he touched you anymore. He also ignored Clay kissing you in front of him a few times. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Such growth, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, you were sitting at the table, cutting into the expensive steak Clay bought for dinner. Clay approached the table, hands traveling from your neck, up into your hair. You abruptly dropped your knife and fork, which clattered against the glass plate loudly on accident. You quickly apologized and picked up the utensils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay chuckled at your reaction to his touch and he pulled your hair away out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ears. You leaned back and looked up at him, matching his grin. You dropped your gaze back to your food and you continued to cut your food as Clay continued to play with your hair. You could feel his body pressed against your back, and you relaxed into his embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your thoughts were always on his hands, and how they felt caressing you and holding you. There was rarely a second that went by where he wasn’t touching you in some way, like he was doing now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you hungry?” George asked Clay, still chewing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light pink dusted your cheeks. You forgot your brother was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, very,” Clay said. He dipped his head down, tall frame dropping low to kiss the soft skin of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You reacted quickly, as soon as you felt his lips on your neck, and ducked out of his reach. “That’s gross,” You reminded him, for your brother’s sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t need to look back to know that Clay was probably rolling his eyes at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he pressed his lips to the top of your head before sitting down in his seat.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The fluff we deserve after all of this, amiright?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Only when I have a muse,</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun woke you up way too early. The light streamed through the windows and right into your eyes. They fluttered open groggily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled over, expecting your back to meet Clay’s chest, like it usually did when you woke up, but you were met with an open bed. The blankets on the side he usually claimed were neatly laid across the bed, made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head popped up immediately and your eyebrows furrowed together. You looked around the room, but Clay wasn’t there. You waited for a few moments, thinking maybe he went to the bathroom, but after waiting long enough, he still hadn’t come back. He was never gone before you woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You threw the covers off and curiously stood up. You opened the door and listened for a moment. You couldn’t hear the typical racket that indicated your brother and Clay were awake and being jackasses together, so you assumed they weren’t downstairs. The door to Clay’s filming room was open, and empty, so he wasn’t there either. The last door before the staircase was open, when it was usually shut tight. The library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You peeked around the corner of the doorway and saw Clay sitting in the window nook, a journal open on his lap with a pen in one hand, scribbling quick notes into it. His left hand was draped down the side, scratching Patches’ head. She was lying on the floor, head and paws resting on an old novel. The morning sun cascaded into the room, falling just where she was laying, asleep. She looked warm and magnificent and utterly comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, to be the lucky cat that was sitting in the patch of sunlight, being pet by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You couldn’t help but think about his hands. You were about to stop yourself from thinking about his hands, like you weren’t allowed to or something, and then you remembered that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were in fact </span>
  </em>
  <span>allowed to think about his hands. As much as you wanted to, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain: brrrr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head: still a bit tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts: hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotel? Trivago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Clay still hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway. He seemed pretty entranced in whatever he was writing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched as the sun moved from behind a cloud and lit up his face, accentuating his features. His eyes became bright and forest green in the light, and he squinted away from it. As he turned away from the window, trying to shield his eyes, his eyes locked on yours for just a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, just gestured with his head for you to come into the room with a smile gracing his face. You walked in and sat across from Clay in the little window nook. You curled your knees up and hugged them, trying to take up as little space as possible, and then you threw the thin blanket over yourself that had been resting by his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay continued to write, just basking in the sunlight, knowing he looked like a goddamned God. You waited for a bit, staring at him. He would occasionally peek over the book he was writing in, flashing you a grin or a wink, but he stayed pretty focused for the most part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you working on?” You asked after several minutes of silence. You’d been staring at him for way too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered the journal and smiled. “Just something I’ve been putting off for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He responded hesitantly. “...a poem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You write poetry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rarely. Only when I have a muse,” He grinned at your reaction and leaned forward, brushing your hair behind your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled and your gaze dropped to the floor where Patches lay, avoiding Clay’s potent green eyes. “Will you read what you have so far?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, but shook his head. “This one...isn’t ready to be shared. Maybe someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded. “Okay. Do you have anything you can read to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay grinned. “I might have something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He read to you for the next hour, voice soft. At some point, you couldn’t remember when, he twisted you around and pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm tight around your waist, holding his journal with the other hand. You read along as he narrated a short story of his, and then, when that was done, he began reading you one of his favorite books. Patches had her little head resting on the specific book, and Clay carefully maneuvered it so she didn’t wake up out of her cat nap in the morning sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got about three chapters in before George came in. He tried not to disturb, but Clay’s voice died out and he shut the book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” George greeted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hungry?” Clay asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Your brother responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast was peaceful, for a change. No screaming, shouting, arguing, or even debating. It was just a nice meal. At one point, you got caught just staring at Clay, unmoving, fork in hand, which you tried to laugh off, but neither of the boys let it go for several minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They streamed together that day, which gave you several hours to vibe by yourself. You ended up stealing Patches and going to the theatre room, where you ended up napping on the extremely comfortable couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook you awake once they found you, which took longer than it should’ve, considering there were only a few places in the house you’d be hiding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of you went on a drive after that, with no destination in mind. Just a full tank of gas and a Spotify playlist full of songs you all loved. There was a lot of shout-singing, and your voices were all pretty dead once you pulled up to wherever Clay had driven you and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His destination was Daytona Beach, which was about an hour away, and seemed to be pretty packed for a Tuesday night. The sky was black, but the beach was lit up by the lights that illuminated from the buildings and the giant ferris wheel on the boardwalk. You had no intention of getting out of the car, but Clay insisted that you and George follow him to the sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his shoes off and ran off, down the sand. You and George gave each other a look and hesitantly followed in suit. Crazy Florida man and his love of beaches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five hours later, you were finally back in Clay’s bed in Orlando. Clay dragged you and George around for hours. This included laying in the sand and watching the night clouds move slowly across the dark sky, and was definitely not limited to dancing to shitty music on the beach as everyone else watched. You also found a few rocks that you eagerly stuffed in your pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were exhausted, but happy. Clay seemed to be too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were ready to sleep, worn out from the night of adventures, but Clay seemed to have something on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay restlessly flipped over to face you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” You lifted your head up and found he was just centimeters away. You pressed your nose against his, relishing in the intimacy of his closeness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s still so many things I don’t know about you.” The eye contact he was giving you made the butterflies in your stomach flutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you like to know?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face relaxed and he shrugged. “I don’t know. What was it like to grow up with George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. “I guess, good. He’s cool sometimes.” You rolled your eyes. “A bit annoying, but he is my older brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay talked about growing up himself, and you laughed at his silly stories. He got serious at one point, voice growing cold, but as soon as he realized, he flipped it back to happy memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s on your mind?” You asked. There’d been about ten minutes of silence, and Clay had been rolling back and forth, trying to get comfortable. He’d never taken so long to fall asleep before. Maybe it was the Florida heat that was keeping him up, which had definitely kept you up for a few nights before you got used to it, but there was no way he wasn’t by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “A lot,” He admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rolled over to face him in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he sighed, but wrapped his arms around your waist. You tipped your head down, trying to gaze into his eyes. They were full of some sort of emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spoke slowly. “I spent so long trying to get George’s permission, because that’s what you wanted. I just…” He paused and let his head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at you, eyes open and eager with curiosity and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Do I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>permission?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cocked your head to the side. “My permission...for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I have your permission to be your boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Don't think about it. Don't cry.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your last day in Florida.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten hours until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George and Clay were out and about somewhere, spending their last time alone together in the States. Before they left, they told you that they were going to bring you home lunch. You spent the time staring blankly at your phone, flipping between apps, distracting yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches peeked her head in, stared at you for a moment, and promptly left the room after making eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got out of bed, following her. She led you from the hall, into the living room, and then up the stairs. She approached Clay’s bedroom, nudging her head against the door to get in. It creaked ever so slightly and the cat walked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patches hopped up on his bed, snuggling into one of Clay’s sweatshirts that was thrown haphazardly onto his bed. It was the one he was wearing last night. She curled up on top of it and you smiled at her. After taking a picture of the precious feline, you laid down next to her and stroked her gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too, sis.” You said to Patches, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You spent some time lying with Patches on Clay’s bed, still wasting time on your phone as you waited for the boys to come back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got up after a while, despite how comfy you were, and observed Clay’s room a bit deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much to see, honestly. His room was pretty clean. You’d watched from his bed as he cleaned his room the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You approached his closet. You didn’t want to snoop, but you were just curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last week and a half had gone by too fast. You finished the Harry Potter series and even began a Marvel marathon, which you got pretty far through. Clay dragged you and George to two more beaches during the week, both different from the ones you’d already visited. This man had a beach problem. Clay loved driving, as well, so he didn’t mind the long car-ride road trips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You spent a lot of time with both Clay and George during the week. You were in Clay’s room when he was streaming a few times. He even let you talk to the stream once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only once though, because the second you were given the opportunity, you confirmed DreamNotFound, which was when Clay shouted for a few moments at both the chat and you, and then muted himself. He approached you, cornering you on his bed where you had been lying. His face was inches away from yours. He was over you, pressing you down into the mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there a problem?” You asked smoothly, though you were almost shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Yes, there is, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled your face away from his, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” You said, struggling under his weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologize.” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Clay,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You drew out his name, then dropped your bottom lip in a pout. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he thought you were being honest, he realized you lied as soon as you smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lightly pushed against his chest. “Go back to your stream, idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed onto the closet door knob and twisted it, not knowing what to expect on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifled a laugh when you saw a quite large chalkboard with wheels, tucked into one side of it. Why the hell did he have this? You rolled it out and squinted.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Absolutely, 100%, completely...allowed.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You read off of the board, and then laughed out loud. There was a place between ‘completely’ and ‘allowed’ that clearly used to have ‘not,’ but had been erased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You recognized your brother’s handwriting, which made you laugh even more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So much for that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought. The guy you’d tried so hard to avoid ended up being your boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eight hours until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay was lying on your bed, watching as you packed. He’d offered to help, but you declined. It wasn’t that much, anyways. You tried to pack some the day before, but when you started to tear up at the thought of leaving Florida, you stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Clay picked up his phone, taking his eyes off of you for just a moment, you scooped up Patches in your arms. You cooed softly in her face, fawning over how fucking cute she was, and then you set her down inside your half-empty suitcase. She flopped over, rubbing against a comfortable shirt you had inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay immediately dropped his phone on the bed and sprung up, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You whined. “But she loves me more than you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay scoffed. “She doesn’t. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>feed </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. She loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He leaned over to pick Patches up, out of your bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snatched her up quicker, smiling at how she meowed at you. “She loves me more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay rolled his eyes and reached out his hands. “Y/N, you’re not taking my cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>her.” You drew out, pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed your hips and pulled you in. Patches was resting comfortably between both of your chests. “Yes, and I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but that doesn’t mean you can have my baby.” He kissed your nose and grabbed the cat from your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joint custody?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” He grinned. “Now, finish packing. We have plans soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Six hours until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers pressed against the leather seat you sat in. Clay wanted to take you out just one more time before going back. He’d taken George out for their little date, and now it was your turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drove out a few miles, playing some good music. You didn’t feel like talking. You just listened to him sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’d like to record music some day.” Clay said loudly over the sound coming from the speakers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned at him. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why not? I’ve got the platform, so I know it won't flop immediately. And I know I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad. Plus, I’ve always wanted to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrugged. He was pretty good. “Go for it,” You said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he parked, you were surprised. It was about mid-day, and you were parked in front of a giant lake you’d seen when flying in. The city was surrounding it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, our last date at a lake?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought we could...you know, sit here and enjoy each other’s company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned to face him in your seat. “Sounds good to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, you sat with Clay for a few hours, just hanging out with him for the last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watched people go by, trying to psychoanalyze every couple in the park. You got distracted from your people-watching whenever someone had a dog, though, and tried to hop out of the car a few times, but Clay stopped you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clay complained. “Pay attention to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He whined. “You’re leaving in a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so clingy,” You teased, and turned his face to look at you. You kissed him gently, shutting him up before he had time to think of a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away and stared down, eyes avoiding yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re…” He sighed, and then looked up into your eyes. “You’re leaving. Today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying not to think about it. You, leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrowed your brows. “How exactly-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this going to work?” He finished for you. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” You sighed. “Long distance,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long distance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Three hours until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Y/N, I have something for you.” Clay peeked his head into the living room from around the corner. You and George were sitting in the living room, bags packed, ready to leave as soon as you wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gasped. “A gift?” You asked. “For me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is a gift,” He confirmed and hopped over the couch to sit next to you. He handed you a little wrapped present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in dark green wrapping, and it was small; about hand-sized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You carefully ripped the wrapping paper and opened it. It was a small, half-full glass jar, with something inside. Upon deeper inspection, you realized it was sand. From Clearwater beach. You could tell because it was the same opal-white sand. Inside of the jar, along with the sand, were little flakes of broken seashells. You flipped it over and saw that the bottom did in fact say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clearwater Beach, Florida, </span>
  </em>
  <span>written in Sharpie in Clay’s script.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face. Sand had certainly...played a big role in your relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are we going to see you again?” You asked, turning to George and then Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay chuckled and pulled you closer to him. “Soon. Hopefully.” He sighed deeply into the crook of your neck. You let him hold you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been so many ‘sigh’s lately. You thought you were going to go crazy if you heard one more. You passed the jar between your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you...</span>
  <em>
    <span>have to</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave?” Clay asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, you were the one that bought the tickets. And international first-class flights aren’t cheap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me, I know. But I can still get a refund-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As fun as this trip has been, and trust me, I’ve had an amazing fucking time,” George huffed, “I want to get back to my setup. And my bed. And mum and dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go back without me, George. I’d rather not leave.” You grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. We all know.” Your brother rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we agree?” Clay asked, and you and George cocked your heads to the side in sync. “I’ll get a refund on the flights and you can just move in here permanently?” He had a goofy grin on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot,” Was echoed by both you and your brother at the same time. You smirked with George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay’s tone dropped low. “I just...don’t want you guys to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence filled the room. You knew that he didn’t want you to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first declaration he’d made, when admitting his feelings, he’d said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I want to be able to hold your hand whenever I want. And I want to miss you when you go home. I don’t want either of you to leave.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thinking back on it brought water to your eyes which you quickly blinked away. You didn’t think it was going to come true at the time, but here you were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One hour until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You bit the inside of your cheek to distract yourself. The car came to a halt and everyone was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George got out of the car, and then Clay. You were sitting in the backseat, head in your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your door was opened by Clay and he held out a hand. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, but then you turned away from his outstretched hand. You were hyper-focused on slowing down your breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Clay murmured. “Don’t think about it. Don’t cry.” He reached out, sliding his fingertips along your jawline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked up with more emotion than you expected in your eyes. Your eyes shut tightly and you brought your head back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you can’t just stay?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trunk opened behind you and George pulled out your bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish,” You laughed dryly. You grabbed his still outstretched hand and let him help you out of the car. He carried your bag into the building for you with one hand, your hand grasped tightly in his other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, right before the security gates, Clay let go of your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” George said to Clay. “I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you soon. Are we still recording tomorrow night?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m awake, that is, ” George laughed and pulled Clay into a hug. When he pulled away, he smiled softly at you. “I’ll go get in line. See you in a sec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away and you watched as he got in line to go through security.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your back was to Clay. You didn’t want to turn around. You didn’t want to have to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” He said softly. “Turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exhaled incredibly slowly and twisted around to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a small grin on his face, and he was looking down at you so softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more chance for me to refund the tickets. C’mon, I’ve got a whole house that you can stay in. You don’t have to go back,” He pleaded, only a bit of joking in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know we have to go,” You whispered, grabbing his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded his head once. “I know. But you can’t blame me for trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you soon, right?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay dropped his head to rest on top of yours, forehead to forehead. “I usually have poetic words to say. But I don’t right now. I don’t...know...what to say. I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you don’t always need the perfect words,” You reminded him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still trying to learn that. Still tryna impress you and all,” He teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked up, into his eyes. They shone, even in the dull airport lighting. Yours were beginning to fill with tears involuntarily and you sniffed heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay grabbed both of your cheeks and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta go, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded. After one more heavy breath, you pressed your lips against Clays.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten minutes until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     It’s going to be raining in London when you land</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     oh fantastic. remind me in about 13 hours to put on a sweater</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Brighton is even colder. Wish you were staying here?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     i’m only slightly jealous of your weather, florida man</span>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>     are you home already?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     No, I’m waiting in the parking lot until your plane leaves</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     ever the gentleman</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     I’m waiting for you to inevitably decide you want to stay here</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     So you can like run up to me all dramatically and kiss me in the airport</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     Like they do in the movies</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     it has been pretty movie-like, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     boarding now…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Guess I can’t refund those tickets anymore, huh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zero minutes until the flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmph, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you sat down in the seat you’d be in for the next twelve hours and forty minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were numb to the situation at this point, and weren’t even thinking anymore. It was late. The sun had set on your way to the airport, and it was dark by the time you boarded the plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plane took off a couple minutes later, and you clutched the arm rests as it left the tarmac. There was a bit of a rough start to the flight, but it calmed down pretty quickly. You put on a pair of noise canceling headphones, courtesy of George, and tried to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wasted the majority of the flight asleep, which you were quite thankful for. You didn’t want to think anymore. You thought way too much today. It was time to shut-down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled your blanket up, covering your entire body. The cabin of the plane was freezing, and you wished you were cuddled up in Clay’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you woke up, you looked out of the window. Miles below, was just blue water. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the next morning, already. Early though, maybe about four a.m.. You didn’t expect Clay to be awake, but he responded as soon as you texted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When George noticed you had woken up, he turned to you. “If anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes flicked up to his slowly, still tired. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clay...needed someone. So did you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded in response, but didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>12 hours and 40 minutes after you had left Florida, the plane touched down in London.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky was gray. A chill went through your body as the wind hit you, following your spine up as you exited the airport in London. You were over 4,000 miles away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, don’t think about it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You just had the best weeks of your life, experiencing colors and emotions and warmth and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and now you were back in the same cold, boring, monotonous England you were before the trip. The last three weeks had been up and down, going to Disney, and the beach, and whatever other adventures that the boys wanted to drag you on. How were you supposed to move on?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands clutched your sides, hugging yourself. You forgot what the weather was like here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember it being so...dull here.” George mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You agreed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi y'all! I have a discord for this server. Posted the link in like, chapters 12 and 13, but i thought i'd post it again for funzies.</p><p>We're a very lowkey server! If you're mean, you will get kicked :) <br/>https://discord.gg/WTtAgjYn52</p><p>ONE MORE CHAPTER, BABEY!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Tell him that I miss him.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     How to get green card</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>     Shit that was meant for google</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     you’re an idiot</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t contain your smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No phones during dinner, love,” Your mother reminded you. “We want to hear about how your trip was,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put it face-down on the table, nodding to her. Clay was going to have to wait until after dinner, you supposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how was it?” Your mother asked George. “Were the States all you thought they’d be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George contemplated his answer. “They were. And some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do? Where did you go?” She urged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lot’s of beaches,” George answered. “So many beaches. Too much sand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was a good amount of beaches,” You refuted, trying to hide a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that, yes, but you also didn’t get attacked by a crab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised an eyebrow. “You provoked him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You totally did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mother interrupted. “You probably did, Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brother scoffed and rolled his eyes. You knew he wasn’t upset, though, because you caught a grin that he tried to cover up when he took a bite of his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Your father began, fork in the air, a little piece of steak on the end of it pointing toward you. “Did you end up having that ‘life-altering exploration to find yourself,’ afterall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George glanced over at you, and you stared back. After a deep sigh, you nodded. “Yes. I think I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were certainly things that went wrong. And definitely a few things you would’ve changed, if you could. But it went exactly how it needed to. If things didn’t go wrong, you wouldn’t have a story to tell about it. If everything went perfectly, it would’ve been boring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ate quickly and hid away in your room for the night, eager to call Clay. You talked to him for a few hours before his yawning became too frequent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only eight, your time. Why are you so tired?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice came through soft. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I stayed up all night while you were on the plane messaging George and waiting for you to wake up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t slept in…how many hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve lost track.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled to yourself and realized how tired you were as well. “Well, I think it’s time for both of us to go to sleep. Talk tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone clicked as he disconnected the call. You plugged your phone in and laid in the dark for quite a while. You rolled around, not falling asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t tell why you couldn’t sleep until you rolled once more. You didn’t unpack any of your things. Most of it remained zipped away in your suitcase still. Maybe you just needed to unpack first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You flicked the lights on, cringing at the brightness for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sighed at the suitcase, too tired to get up, but rolled out of bed anyways and began unpacking. It was pretty slow progress for a while, putting things away one at a time. Your hands halted suddenly when they grasped onto a soft fabric that you didn’t recognize immediately. You turned back to your phone, which was resting on your bed still, and then you looked back at the suitcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Clay’s sweatshirt. The one you’d tried to leave in Florida.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t tell him, but when he was out with George, you’d put it back in his room. As much as you’d wanted to bring it home with you, you didn’t want to just take it. He must’ve put it back in your bag at some point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slipped it on over your head and nuzzled into it. It smelled like the beach bonfire from one of your excursions to the coast he’d taken you and your brother to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After finishing the unpacking, you thought you’d be able to finally fall asleep, but again, you were restless. The smell of the hoodie was calming you down, but for some reason, you knew sleep wasn’t going to happen soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You realized a moment later why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were alone. For the first time in nearly two weeks, you were sleeping without Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The loneliness hit you once you landed in London, and again now. You didn’t know when you were going to see him next. It could be weeks. It could be months. God forbid, it could be longer than that. You couldn’t imagine going that long without seeing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried not to think about it, but it consumed your thoughts. Eventually, you fell asleep to the thoughts of your last kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time mid-day, you were still in bed. The sun had risen behind thick clouds, but you weren’t planning on getting up for a while. You thought about your next break; the next time you’d be able to see him. It was months away. Sure, he could visit England, but you’d probably be busy with school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trees rustled against the window, breaking you out of your thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were so green. A different type of green. It didn’t look like the Florida green you were so familiar with now. The color of the palm trees that stood behind Clay’s bedroom window, or even the intensity of the grass outside. Florida green was bright, almost fake, and yet somehow comforting. The evergreen trees outside your window were dark and brooding. Nearly sad. What you’d give to see that obnoxious shade of green in person again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pulled your thick covers up to your chin, listening to the wind whispering through the trees outside and the rain hit the roof. It hadn’t stopped raining since you got home. You used to find it comforting, but now you could only think of the night in that you spent with Clay during a thunderstorm. It was three days ago. He let you dance in the rain with him. Your freezing clothes were sticking completely to your body and he made fun of you for hours because of your sneezes, but it was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had a few thoughts floating around your head, but your mind remained mostly blank, memories rushing in from the trip. You felt...peaceful, albeit a bit sad. You wished Clay was there, too. But he was thousands of miles away. You missed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trees knocked once more against your window and your eyes traveled to it subconsciously. They were the same, deep green shade as Clay’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huffed and rolled over, facing the opposite wall. Was there anything that wasn’t going to remind you of him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s been four weeks since you left Florida and not once-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nick said seriously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not one </span>
  </em>
  <span>damn time </span>
  <em>
    <span>has Clay shut the fuck up about missing you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You leaned back in your seat, grinning. “Is that supposed to be my problem?” You responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the boys had convinced you to get Discord, despite your rejection. You told them that you weren’t a gamer, but Clay convinced you that it was the most effective way to chat with him. You were currently on a video call with Nick as he complained about your boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, of course it’s your problem.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see how,” You asked with faux confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s your problem because he’s your boyfriend, Y/N.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and?” You sighed. “Is he supposed to just, what, not miss me? Impossible. You miss me too, I know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I do miss you. You’re my favorite of the NotFound family. However,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nick countered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I would like to talk to Clay about anything other than you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled. “Awe, you do miss me! Anyways–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock at your door and you heard it open behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I’ve got to go, I guess.” Your eyebrows furrowed and you hung up the call, saying goodbye to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George peeked his head in. His hair flopped in the direction of the floor as he cocked his head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you busy?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just talking to Nick,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course you were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, no. I’m not that busy. What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood up, stretching. “Sure, where at?” You were always available for free food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Redroaster?” Your brother suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> You asked, quirking a brow at him. “What’s the occasion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t been in like, a year. Thought it’d be nice. Heard they remodeled, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You agreed. You would never turn Redroaster down. It was a coffee house with plants hung all around the ceiling, and marble floors and walls. You hadn’t been to it a lot, but you loved it every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George ordered an Uber, and then reminded you to bring a coat because it was chilly. You put on day clothes, finally getting out of your pajamas, and hopped into the entryway. After helping you into your coat, George opened the door. You thanked him and walked down the steps outside of your small house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You conversed with George a bit during the ride, but a peaceful silence held the car for most of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The café was even better than how you remembered it. It was completely modernized, and you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the botanicals hanging from the ceiling. It was the best part of the whole café. It felt so organic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You got seated and scanned the menu for a few minutes, until George’s phone started ringing. He picked it up and stared at the screen for a moment, and then stood up from the table. He looked confused. “One second, I’m getting a call from Clay. Coding thing, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You groaned. “We haven’t ordered yet-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to get this. I’m sorry. It’ll be quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put your chin in your palms. “Okay.” You sighed. “Tell him that I miss him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and answered it, walking away from the table, toward the entrance of the café. Once he dipped around the corner of the building, you sighed and got out your phone. You had no messages, except one from Clay from about an hour previous.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Whatcha doing?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>lunch with George, wby?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t get a text back immediately. You didn’t expect to, considering he was on the phone with George. It was about the time that he usually woke up, and you were shocked that he was already coding. He usually waited until the evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You waited for a few minutes, even telling the waitress to come back in a few. Once you’d exhausted your phone for things to distract yourself with, you began to look around the café. It was pretty busy, but it was a Sunday afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were staring at the drink menu on the opposite wall to you when George finally joined you again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a long phone call,” You said, eyes drifting back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only, you didn’t see George’s familiar brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor did you see his brown hair. Or the blue shirt you remember he wore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor did this person have George’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, you saw dirty blond, curly hair, and green eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You froze immediately. Your face contorted in surprise, and then confusion, and then happiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding,” You whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, I’m Clay. Like the pottery kind, if you were curious.” He bit his tongue in the cutest smile you’d seen in weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jumped out of your seat, not even bothering to go around the table. You hugged him over it, bent over awkwardly, not giving a shit about who was staring at you. He embraced you tightly and dropped his head into the crook of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” You asked, not letting go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” You said. “But why are you here? Where’s George?” You pulled away to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay shrugged. “Probably heading back to your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled away, grabbing your hands in his. “Because we get to spend the day together. I hope you didn't have any plans today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed. “None. Not anymore. I can cancel them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. So, what’s for lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked him through the menu and told him about your favorite foods. You couldn’t get the smile off your face for the rest of the meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After lunch, you walked down the pavement together, hand in hand, catching each other up on the latest things that had happened. The weather was still cold, but you felt perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I start class next week,” You said. “How long are you here for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long enough,” He admitted. “A week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squeezed his hand in yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anywhere you wanted to go?” You asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled you into his arms in the middle of walking, halting you. “I showed you all of my favorite places in Florida. Could you show me all of your favorite places?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned. “There’s a problem with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” He asked, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. The wind whipped it back exactly where it was, and he kept fixing it until it stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were laughing at his attempts to fix your hair. “My favorite place is 4,000 miles away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled you into a hug, arms around your waist. You pulled him in closer around his neck, not wanting to let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been spending...all of my time thinking about you. For the last month. I kind of thought I’d never see you again,” You whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Clay whispered back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really glad you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded. “There’s something that I forgot to tell you, when we were in Florida.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled back to stare into your eyes. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m absolutely, 100%, completely, in love with you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow...that is the end of the fic, after four months in the making. There will not be a sequel, unfortunately, because there's no more story to tell! That's it, folks. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun to write, and I've met some pretty cool people because of it. Alright, well, I have a few other fics planned (even a sapnap/reader because so many people asked for one). They'll be coming pretty soon! I didn't expect it to be this long, let alone 67 fucking thousand words xD anyways, please comment your thoughts on the fic! I'd love to hear what you thought about the conclusion.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Again, leave a comment if you'd like :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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